


The Masquerade

by NPh



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Denial of Feelings, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hacking, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Invasion, Jealous Ratchet, Manipulation, Mind Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Love, Psychological Torture, Spark Bond, every chapter brings about other freaky ideas, yes I'm still adding the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NPh/pseuds/NPh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once they were brothers. Then their ways abruptly divided.<br/>But now they are back together – brothers in arms reunited, facing new great enemy. In the meantime their long-forgotten bond is regenerating...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invocation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> It's my first time posting here but not my debut in writng fanfiction.  
> I'm really sorry if there are some mistakes - English isn't my first language and I'm still learning.  
> This an AU based mostly on TFP (and in part on IDW). The idea of this fic came to me long time ago (after reading ''Exodus'' by Alex Irvine and ''Retribution'' by David J. Williams and Mark S. Williams). Finally I screwed up enough courage to write this story...  
> If You find any mistakes (stylistic, misspelling etc.), please do tell me - I want to learn from them.  
> Hope You enjoy this fic! :)

One cannot simply tell that the Great War was over. After eons of never-ending fighting to the finish, after all those abandoned battlefields which once were fertile worlds... After becoming restless and reckless, after risking dozens of lives for an infinitesimal victory... After moments of triumph and the bitter taste of failure... The decision was made.  


There was no Autobots or Decepticons anymore. If the truth be told, some still held tight to those meaningless names and belived that one faction had won and the other had lost. But most of them didn't care about the brand on their frame anymore – they were just Cybertronians and they were going to rebuild their home.  


In fact Cybertron was a barren wasteland. Therefore they couldn't just settle down once again – there was nowhere to settle down. The cities were devastated – only ruins left alone and haints wandering through the empty streets. There were some dropouts still hiding in the shadows, sneaking upon neutrals or even single Autobot or Decepticon groups seeking refuge... The planet needed true inhabitants – a society, workforce which would be able to rebuild Cybertron and lead it to new Golden Age. Single warship crew couldn't have achieved it and thus the high command had decided to contact all the units which survived the war.  


The task appeared to be more dificult then it seemed at first. They had began with sending a message on every known frequency and soon it had turned out that the long-range communication systems had been damaged during megacycles of battles. Without a second thought they started trying to locate other ships.  
This is how Ark-98 started its journey through the space in search of other Cybertronians.

///

Tranquility was the key to success.  
He belived in it with all his spark so he kept choosing loneliness and silence. He had to be patient and, moreover, concentrated. He was able to stand like this for cycles – having his optics offlined and servos folded...  
There was only silence and a harmonious pulsation above his spark. Some images were drifting in his mind – memories, visions, longings even... He didn't dare to catch any of them, to think any of those pictures over. He simply let them pass away and waited for them to reapear. But more often than not the artifact in his chest showed him new images.  
He tried to ask the Matrix direct questions but the only outcome was frustration. He hadn't gotten any answer for decacycles and every time when his officers were asking him for the course, he told them not to the change the current one. He felt useless.  


Once again he holed up on the observation deck, offlined his optics and exvented slowly. He begged the Matrix to tell him literally anything. But the artifact seemed to be mean and was flooding him with memories – some of them painful.  


He groaned loudly, clenching his fists. He onlined his optics and looked around just to make himself sure that no one could hear him. Unfortunatelly someone could.  


''Is it still silent?'' asked Ultra Magnus, assuming that he could pose his question because the Prime had noticed him finally.  


Optimus opened his intake to speak but no words came out. He hesitated.  


''No'' he said carefully after a while. Magnus seemed not to be about to labour the point, therefore the Prime countinued. ''Primus is giving me unclear clues but I believe that soon I will be able to give new orders.''  


He didn't lie – that was partially true. The Matrix flooded him with memories and he hadn't made anything out of it yet. Ultra Magnus simply nodded. Optimus didn't want to know how long the officer had been watching him. He felt useless without this knowledge. He guessed that it must have been a while because Magnus was observing him steadily.  


''Do you need anything, sir?''  


Prime had been waiting for this question. So even Ultra Magnus started doubting his abilities... Optimus admitted that this course of events was inevitable since his trusted officer used to spend a good deal of time on the bridge where Hot Rod used to question Prime's decision... Optimus corrected himself: it's not Hot Rod anymore. They call him Rodimus now. The crew would soon add ''Prime'' to it, if the current one wasn't about to start acting like a true leader... So there are deadlines when it comes to making decisions affecting well-being of your people? Hilarious.  


He did not look Magnus in the optics. He didn't want to.  


''No, thank you for your concern'' he said simply and turned on his hill to put more space between them.  


''Rodimus is trying to persuade the crew to change the course.''  


It wasn't like Optimus hadn't bargained for it. Rodimus was a promising soldier during the war – though sometimes reckless, proved himself a good leader... And yet he turned out to be a detractor but Optimus believed that the young officer considered himself some kind of advisor. He was also quite militant and the standstill was driving him up the wall.  


''Ultra Magnus, please, keep an eye on him'' the Prime said quietly.  


''Yes, sir'' with those words the blue mech left the room.  


Optimus watched him go and then sighed. Fortunately, Magnus was intelligent and recognized when his commander wanted to be alone. Optimus offlined his optics once again and tried to focus on the warm pulse near his spark. Once again he allowed his mind to be led by the Matrix. He let the artifact steer him and soon he was drifting away from his frame, wandering about blurry images of his very past.  


And there he was. Standing before the Council. Side by side with Megatronus.  


And one more time he had to watch as their ways split. He had to be offended by his dearest friend. He had to stay there when Megatronus left. Once again his spark was filled with sorrow, regret and the belief that he could have spoken his mind in different way. But there was no time for such bereavement – the Councilors took care of him, adressing him Optimus and letting Orion Pax be forgotten. He felt devastated at first – his spark was yearning for Megatronus. He could not recharge and no one was able to comfort him. Then Alpha Trion adivised him to ask Primus for help. After thinking it over the young Prime reached the conclusion that it wouldn't fan the flames if he tried (he considered his function a living hell anyway). Optimus prayed to Primus for advise as he had done it in the past and in numerous visions before...  


He onlined his optics with a frustrated groan. He didn't want to repeat all those battles – victorious or not. What point had the Matrix in showing those memories to him? The reminiscences brought only pain, woe... Optimus had grown tired of his spark being shattered by those visions. He was aware of everything that had happened to him during The Great War – he knew that there was a moment when he got used to the ruins surrounding him and energon on his servos... He knew too well that sometimes he had lost his way... He remembered how many mistakes he had made and how many comrades he had lost... There was no need for the relic to remind the Prime of all this.  


Maybe Primus was a blood-thirsty god and when the war had ended he had lost interest in his children? He was trying to provoke Optimus into rubbing salt into his wounds because he wanted a new conflict to ignite? The Prime was far from believing that.  


Again he gave up on the Matrix like he had done so many times before. He left the observation deck and headed to his quarters.  


The corridors were empty and he thanked Primus for this little gesture. He doubted if he could stand questioning stares or pity. Furthermore he felt exhausted and unable to look any of his Autobots in the optics. They trusted him and he – their Prime was failing them. Optimus recalled similiar situations from the past but there had been always a way-out. He used to ask the Matrix for guidence – so he did. Unfortunately, the relic kept oppressing him using his own past as a weapon.  


He stoped in front of the door to his quarters and suddenly an unfamiliar feeling overtook him. It was some kind of longing... Mixed with fear and... shame maybe? Optimus leaned back against the wall – that was overwhelming. He clutched at his chest-plates as if it could have eased the pain that appeared all of the sudden in his very spark. The Prime whined, offlinig his optics. His frame felt as if it was on fire. He struggled not to collapse because of the pain. He burnt. He couldn't move or think of anything. His processor was a mess – memories were raving in his mind... Suddenly there was a chill piercing his spark and a spine-tingling whisper close to his audio-receptors:  


''Come to me... Come home...''  


Then everything: the sharp pain, the voice, memories... everything intermingled with each other and there was only oblivion.

He onlined his optics, his systems rebooting slowly. Optimus checked his chronometer. It seemed he was out only for five kliks and it felt as if more than a joor had passed. The Prime looked around still being a bit dizzy. The pain was gone and to his own surprise the despair vanished without trace. Optimus' only concern now was the fact that he had no idea what had happened to him. Had it been the Matrix? That was the most plausible explanation but not the most convincing one. The relic didn't use to work in this manner... The Prime remembered the moment when he had been chosen by it – it had been painful when the artifact had connected itself to his systems but that was the only distress caused by the Matrix during the course of Optimus' Primacy. This 'incident' was unsettling, however the Prime had to admit that he felt better. He stood up and, without a second thought, strode toward the bridge. He wasn't tired anymore – he was in high spirits. Optimus knew what to do, he had an order to give.

///

''Come on! Let the scales fall from your eyes!''

''That doesn't work on me either, kid'' said Ironhide and smirked. Rodimus glared at him.  


''Don't listen to me, if you're not interested'' the younger mech advised sweetly.  


''I won't let you start a riot on Prime's ship'' stated Ironhide, crossing his servos.  


''A riot? I'm not starting a riot – I'm suggesting that we should change the course and since Optimus doesn't listen to me...''  


''I thought you're something more than some glitched rioter...''  


''You think so little of me?''  


''No wonder...''  


''Knock it off you two!''  


Both red mechs fell silent and looked simultaneously at the bot who had dared to stop their argue. Ratchet was glaring at Rodimus and Ironhide with his servos akimbo, as if he was about to scold them. It seemed everyone on the bridge was observing them – some were definitely hoping for a punch-up. Ironhide rolled his optics preparing for a ''stop-acting-like-a-sparkling'' speech. Rodimus shot a glance at Drift but his friend turned out to be as displeased as the medic. Assuming that there won't be any worth-watching spectacle, the majority of mechs on the bridge returned to their duties.  


''For Primus' sake, do you always have to fall out like this?'' asked Ratchet in a reproachful tone.  


''I'm not going to listen to this again'' grumbled Ironhide and turned on his hill to leave.  


''Stop acting like a sparkling and you won't have to'' the medic replied.  


''I'm leaving, Ratch'' announced theatrically Hide, glancing over his shoulder at Ratchet and almost crashing into a tall mech who arrived at the bridge. Then all optics were again on him because it was the Prime himself who stood in the doorway.  


''Look who's here...'' mumbled Rodimus, folding his servos and taking up a challenging stance.  


''Are we changing the course...?'' asked Sideswipe hopefully and turned away from the console to look directly at the commander.  


''Indeed'' answered Optimus laconically.  


''So... where are we going?'' demanded Rodimus curtly.  


''To Cybertron.''


	2. The Chance Encounter

''Oh, Primus...''  


Optimus spared a glance at Rodimus. There was no place for the youngster who used to challenge Prime's decisions anymore. It was Hot Rod again – a bomber from Nyon and he was gazing in awe at his beloved home. He hadn't seen Cybertron for a long time and obviously cherished this very moment when he could, after all those years of agony and dispair, look at his homeworld. Rodimus took a step forward almost leaning his faceplates against the view-screen – so did his young friends, only a few of whom the Prime knew personally. Orion Pax would have acted similarly but the quixotic archivist had never left Cybertron – he'd died there when the war had escaladed, that was how Optimus used to put it. He and Orion weren't the same person. Megatron had pointed it out a few times.  


Therefore Optimus was just watching, his servos folded and his stance neutral. Yes, he yearned for Cybertron but he knew only havoc and cities turning into ruins – he was the Prime of the age of extinction. The future historians will use this term, he was sure about it.  


''Prime...?''  


Sideswipe looked over his shoulder at the commander. They were still in the orbit but it was the right moment for the pilot to ask where the ship should come down. Though the whole planet was an abandoned wasteland, the tract that heaved into sight still resembled a city.  


''Iacon.''  


This time it was Ultra Magnus who spoke up. Always reserved and collected, this time the homesickness, which applied to everyone abroad, won over him.  


Optimus just nodded and Sideswipe turned to the console. They were closing to the city – the cusps of the Ceslestial Spires became more visible, the Archives showed up too. Then the Prime felt it – he was home. In this very moment the Matrix decided to remind him about its presence. The relic ecumbered his processor with memories which didn't belong to him but to Orion Pax. Optimus had to watch as the archivist was wandering through the busy streets of Iacon, he had to admire the hustle and bustle of the city-state and its never-fading lights.  


Suddenly something came into view, something that shouldn't be there.  


''Is that the Nemesis!?'' yelled Ironhide, pointing at the wreckage lying in the middle of the city-center. The battleship had sustained severe damage: the bridge was nowhere to be seen – only a gaping hole in the front part of the ship, it seemed something had been trying to tear the Nemesis apart.  


For a moment the whole bridge of Ark 98 was completly silent. Everyone was looking at the remains of the pride of Decepticon fleet. Then the realisation sank. The Prime watched his officers carefully, feeling the chill coming from the Matrix. A warning.

''Cancel the landing procedure'' commanded Optimus. ''We are going back in the orbit. Inform the rest of the ships...''  


''Wait, what?!'' Rodimus resented the orders. ''We should investigate what had happened to the Nemesis!''  


''And we will'' stated the Prime calmly. ''Prowl, Ratchet, Arcee and Ironhide. You are coming with me to take a closer look at the wreckage. Ultra Magnus, you are in charge during my absence.''  


That didn't satisfy Rodimus – he seemed even more irritated.  


''I'm coming with you, Prime'' he declared, clenching his fists.  


''You will stay here and remain as a backup. You will wait until I contact the ship and ask for your help'' said Optimus, his voice even and a stern look in his optics.

Only then Rodimus obeyed – he wasn't stupid and he knew that his ''suggestions'' meant walking a fine line. The Prime was soft-sparked but causing him to run out of patience was a bad idea. There is a time to speak and a time to be silent.

///

The shuttle landed on the undamaged part of the thoroughfare. Optimus stepped off the spacecraft first, Arcee and Prowl close behind him. Ratchet and Ironhide were ordered to stay in the shuttle – the Prime had refused to leave there only one bot. Something was about to come and he wanted to reduce the risk of loosing another comrades.  


His left servo transformed into a gun the moment they left the protective embrace of the shadow. The group slowly walked towards the wreckage. The fact that they were in the open space obviously didn't make anything easier – they had no idea what to expect. The group had two options: to walk in the middle of the street or to creep near 'the haunted houses'. Neither of the variants seemed an enticement but one of them had to be chosen. Therefore the three bots were moving little by little, keeping sharp lookout for any signs telling they weren't alone. Even Prowl caught himself aiming whenever he felt as if there had been a movement in the corner of his optic... It took them a while but finally the group reached the Nemesis.  


This time it was Arcee's turn to go on ahead and look through while the others were waiting on the outside. She was back in a few kliks, suspicion written all over her faceplates.  


''I don't like it'' she said, nodding towards the pitch-black corridor. ''It's empty. Only some offlined Vehicons...''  


''Supposed cause of going offline?'' asked Prowl.  


''No idea.'' Arcee shrugged. ''There are no bullet holes. It looks like...'' She made an inaccurate gesture. ''...someone had just unplugged them...''  


Optimus' faceplates twitched in an involuntary grimace.  


''How?'' Prowl continued, his voice a monotone and experssion impassive.  


''Don't know. Go and take a look for yourself'' Arcee answered and cast an apprehensive glance at the entrance.  


''We're going inside'' Optimus decided.  


The femme nodded, switched on her headlights and led the two mechs through the dark corridor. The wreckage was empty indeed. The group came across only a few dingy shells which once had been Decepticon soldiers. Prowl took a closer look at the remains but each time he was unsatisfied – Arcee's words turned out to be true: there were no clues. They moved further, exploring the ghost ship but the more they learnt, the more they realized they didn't know. Frustration arose and trepidation set out to show up. Within kliks the whole group was on tenterhooks and only the Prime gave no hint of his unquiet. The number of offlined Vehicons was thinning and when the three bots reached the heart of the Nemesis, corpses were nowhere in sight.  


''Creepy...'' murmured Arcee when the dead silence started getting on her nerves. Prowl nodded, his visor dimmed and the femme realized that even the collected martinet was affected by the brooding atmosphere.  


After what she had experienced during the Great War Arcee was far from pitying the Decepticons, nonetheless even the worst enemy didn't deserve such fate. She gave up on wondering what had happened to the crew of the Nemesis, she simply took up that it had been something cruel.  


Suddenly Optimus stopped short, making Arcee and Prowl look at him.  


''Prime...?'' the Praxian asked, raising his doorwings – he was on high alert again. There was no answer to his question. The two bots exchanged glances, then the femme took a hesitant step towards the leader.  


''Optimus, can you hear me...?'' she asked quietly. The Prime was looking off into space, his optics unfocused and his backstrut straightened up.  


''Scrap...'' murmured Arcee. ''I'm calling Ratchet'' she said, Prowl noded in acknowledgement, aiming his blasters at the corridor.  


''Wait...'' hissed Optimus and both bots looked at him again. The Prime sunk to his knees and Arcee instantly knelt down by his side.  


''Optimus, what's wrong?'' she asked softly, watching him carefully.  


''We should back out'' suggested Prowl in a low voice. The Prime shook his head and the Praxian wanted to protest but he went silent, waiting for the leader to explain. Prowl guessed that there must be an explanation...  


Optimus rose to his feet and exvented loudly. He looked at his subordinates – they seemed disturbed by the situation. The Prime didn't feel better either. It had been the same overwhelming sensation which he had experienced before. Fortunately, this time he hadn't collapsed but he still felt dizzy. The whisper had came back too.  


Optimus looked around, keeping an optic open for anything that could have possibly... Door. There was an open door. The Prime stared at it for a while in surprise. In fact, there was more than one door in the corridor but the group had been passing them by, the thought of checking what was inside never crossing their processors. Furthermore, none of the previous doors had been open. And now Optimus was staring at the particular one. He didn't know why – had that voice told him to do so? The Prime came closer and peekend into the chamber.

///

''Stop treating me like a sparkling...'' mumbled Ironhide, glaring at Ratchet.  


''But you are acting like one'' retorted the medic with a smirk. ''And you were about to start a fight, I had to intervene'' he added seriously.  


''Optimus wouldn't mind if I gave this kid a lacing...''  


''He would, believe me, he would...'' said Ratchet, an udercurrent of irritation in his voice. Hide nodded reluctantly but didn't continue the squabble. He sat in the captain's chair and started examining his weaponry to pass the time. The medic was watching him, the smirk never leaving his faceplates. At first Ironhide was turning a blind optic to it but after a few breems he ran out of patience and grimaced.  


''What?'' he barked. ''Why are you staring?''  


''I'm not staring.''  


''Oh, so now you're being funny, aren't you? Why are you grumpy all the time and suddenly when it's just the two of us, you start 'being funny'?'' snapped the red warrior, crossing his servos.  


''I'm not grumpy all the time'' said Ratchet, he sounded offended. Then Ironhide burst out laughing and it was Ratchet's turn to grimace.  


''What's so funny?'' he grumbled.  


''Gotcha, old slagger'' answered Hide, grining. ''Don't be so touchy. After all...''  


And this very moment the old wrench showed up. Ironhide yelled and aimed his guns at the medic. They fell out once again – this time it wasn't just a petty squabble (mostly because of the red mech's language...). There were some threats but no one got hurt. They ended up mumbling, cursing and glaring at each other – nothing out of the ordinary. Then the shuttle went quiet.  


Suddenly something got both mechs' attention. Ratchet was the first to make his point.  


''By the Allspark, are they glitched?!'' he bawled. Ironhide folded his servos, his expression unreadable – he watched as the three bots came closer and only when he was sure that his optics weren't malfunctioning, he exclaimed with rage:  
''I'm not letting them in!''

///

The door of the loading bay opened, reavealing an angry veteran aiming at his own comrades and a displeased medic holding wrench in one servo. Such a chilly greeting.  


''What, for Primus' sake, did you...''  


''Can it'' snapped Arcee. ''We've already had this conversation. Move over, Ironhide.''  


''No'' he refused, gritting his denta.  


''Ironhide...'' adressed him the Prime, his voice calm but there was some firmness in his optics.  


''Move over, Buckethead's heavy'' mumbled the femme, shoving the red mech out of her way. Ironhide disengaged his weapons and turned on his hill to leave – he wasn't loath even to look at the warlord. Ratchet only sighed when Optimus and Prowl dragged the heap of spikes and weaponry to the medbay.  


''I take having him tied up at face value'' stated the medic, standing in the doorway.  


Without saying a word the two mechs did as told while Ratchet was watching them. When they were about to leave, the orange and white bot stopped the leader.  


''What do you want me to do?'' the medic asked in a subdued voice.  


There was a moment of silence. The Prime glanced over his shoulder at the still form bound up to the operating table, then he turned his attention to Ratchet.  


''What we found aboard the Nemesis was rather unsettling...'' he said carefully. ''There were no survivors. Only Megatron.''  


The medic nodded but he obviously wanted Optimus to continue. He knew the Prime long enough to easily guess what the leader intended to do. Still he needed to hear it.  


''Megatron can provide us with answers'' specified Optimus. ''I want you to wake him from the stasis lock.''  


''I don't have cortical psychic patch at my disposal'' the medic said dryly, crossing his servos; the Prime seemed nonplussed – it didn't surprise Ratchet. ''So you intend to have a talk with him?''  


''To interrogate him'' corrected Optimus, his expretion neutral but the medic could sense a tang of irritation in his voice.  


''Very well'' responded Ratchet curtly and stepped aside so that the other mech could leave. The Prime stared at his greatest enemy for another while and walked out of the medbay.

///

He awoke but fought the urge to online his optics. His frame was numb, he felt strange and could not recall the latest events. His digits had stiffened – how long he had been in stasis he couldn't tell. His chronometer had been put out of order. There was no ther option left – therefore he onlined his optics. Above him was a relatively low ceiling – quite unhelpful observation. He tried to sit up and to his surprise this movement gave him some hints, namely he could not sit up. He was tied up.  


He concluded that he wasn't abroad his ship – usually when someone had bound him to a table it had been because of fear or bad intention... He could presume that he had been caught by the Autobots or... The reality sunk in. The war was over. Recently the Autobots hadn't been his greatest concern. The Prime and his troops had been floating in the space. Meanwhile he had led his Decepticons to Cybertron and...  


He growled and involuntarily digged his claws into the flat surface beneath him. He gathered his strength and struggled, pushed against the restraints. They wouldn't humiliate him. He wouldn't let them. He would break free and rend them all.  


Suddenly there was the sound of marching pedes. He froze, listening; every part of his frame was tense and ready to attack. The door opened with a woosh. Someone stepped inside and the door closed. For a long while there was only the deafening silence. Then the enterer walked towards the restrained mech with an unsteady gait. Uncertainty could easily turn into fear – he was at an advantage. He smiled to himself and abruptly his mind went blank when the enterer came into view. He stared at the mech and wasn't able to say anything. Then the shock transfigured into malevolance and he spoke up.  


''I thought the war was over, Prime'' he said, moving his digits ostentatiously.  


''My medic wasn't fond of having you in his medbay'' Optimus explained; he was debating with himself but finally decided to release the warlord. The red and blue mech tapped a button on the console located on the nearest wall and the restraints were gone. Megatron sat up and glared at the Prime.  


''May I ask why I am here?'' the grey mech asked harshly.  


''I wanted to ask you what had happened to the Nemesis'' Optimus stated calmly.  


There was a moment of silence again. They were staring at each other for a long while. The Prime watched the warlord carefully – he was able to tell which scars were knew, after all he had dealt most of the blows to Megatron.  


''Why did you come to Cybertron?'' the grey mech asked unexpectedly, his tone softer than before. Optimus didn't know what to say. He still had no idea what had happened to him aboard the Ark and then aboard the Nemesis. The Prime had no explanation for the strange sensation which had overwhelmed him twice. Surprisingly, Megatron was waiting patiently, his servos folded and his gaze fixed on Optimus. The red and blue mech gave in and used the most plausible explanation he could come up with:  
''The Matrix told me to come back.''  


He could feel the anger boiling in the warlord as he glared at him. The grey mech stood up and without any warning pinned Optimus to the wall.  


''You are a fool'' Megatron hissed right to the other mech's audioreceptor. ''The Matrix'' he snarled with disdain. ''The Matrix has nothing to do with it, I assure you, Prime...''  


Optimus froze, unable to push the warlord away. He looked into those enraged, crimsom optics and all of the sudden the strange sensation appeared. This time he would hang in. He strove to keep a clear processor and stared Megatron square in the optics. The rage emanating from the grey mech subsided and finally the Prime found the strength to detrude the warlord. Optimus didn't take a fighting stance, he had no wish for another single combat – the war was over. Furthermore, the grey mech was in no shape for a fight, Ratchet had patched him up but, actually, it had been just cutting corners... Finding out what had happened on Cybertron during his absence was his imperative. Therefore the Prime put aside the dubiousness of Megatron's involvement with the 'incidents' – he would worry about it later.  


''What happened to the Nemesis?'' Optimus demanded. The former gladiator refused to answer, his lip plates drawn into a thin line.  


''Megatron'' the Prime addressed him, his voice flat. ''There's something happening here. Something wrong. The war is over so we shall cooperate in figuring out...''  


''Stop lecturing me, Prime'' the warlord growled. ''I won't tell you anything until you take me aboard your Ark'' he imposed the condition.  


''Why can't you tell me now?'' Optimus asked calmly.  


''As you said, something is happening here. It will be much safer if we discuss it in the orbit'' Megatron stated. ''I advise you to depart immediately'' he added, his voice full of venom.  


The Prime stared at him and was about to reply when suddenly the door opened and Prowl stormed inside, his doorwings raised and visor dimmed. He seemed twitchy.  


''What is it, Prowl?'' asked Optimus, frowning.  


''You should take a look at this, Prime...'' muttered the Praxian and led the way to the bridge. The red and blue mech followed, he didn't notice that Megatron decided to go too.  


On the bridge everyone was staring in awe through the windscreen. The thoroughfare remained empty, the wreck of the Nemesis was there too. It was the sky that was open to doubt – there was something odd about it but Optimus could not tell what was wrong at first. Then he saw it. Plenty of specks hovering high above the city, swarming... All those spots were connected by a semi-translucent flakes...  


''Force field'' Ironhide spoke up, his voice grim.  


''They know you are here and they are not letting you out'' said Megatron. ''Just like with the Nemesis.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, happy New Year everyone!  
> Thank You for the Kudos and comments!  
> If You found any mistakes, please tell me - I don't have an English-speaking beta reader... And tell me what You think about the chapter itself :3


	3. The Frolic

There was a loud sigh and the sound of drumming one's digits on the tabletop. Then slurping. And another sigh.  


''What is it, that bothers you so much?'' asked Drift with a lenient smile, raising his gaze.

Rodimus didn't notice his friend's attitude (or simply didn't care about the smile which turned into a bit cheeky one) and sighed once again, this time not to attract attention (he had already achieved it) but to emphasise his weariness.

''I can't just sit here and wait for him to call!'' the red mech complained. ''He ordered me to stay out of spite!'' he added, his helm propped up by one servo.  
''Maybe he had a point?'' suggested Drift carefully, expecting a backlash.  


''No...? He simply wanted to punish us for questioning his orders'' muttered Rodimus, sipping his energon. The white mech titled his helm to the side.  


''Us?''  


''Yeah, you know, our crew'' specified Rodimus. Drift raised his optic ridges and pointed out:  


''Well, you were the one questioning his orders in public.''  


''Yeah... but you all were supporting me, weren't you?''  


''I was against your certain behaviours... such as your argues with Ironhide'' said the white mech calmly. The red one seemed indignant.  


''That's right, Drift! Deny your best friend! It's not like I was the only one who trusted you when the others were still calling you 'a Deceptiscum'...'' mumbled Rodimus, crossing his servos. The white mech just laughed and patted the red one on the shoulder.  


''Emotional blackmail?'' he asked, still smiling.  


''I'm just trying to change your perspective'' said Rodimus, drinking up his cube of energon. Drift shook his helm, his expression buoyant. He was a forbearing mech – that was why he liked those banters when Rodimus used to try to provoke him, then huffed...  


''Isn't it clever to have a backup here instead of walking the whole fleet into an ambush?'' prompted Drift. Rodimus was thinking it over for a while, expression of deep concentration on his faceplates. Finally he conceded. The white mech exvented a sigh of relief – that had been easier than he had thought. It was too good to last...  


''Well, I'm going to recruit the backup team'' announced Rodimus, standing up. Drift glanced up at his friend. Seeing innocence on the red mech's faceplates, he gave him a suspicious look.  


''What?'' asked Rodimus, grinning.  


''Recruiting the backup team?'' enquired Drift, his voice filled with wariness.  


''So that we will be ready when Prime asks for help'' explained the red mech clearly proud of himself.  


''Ready?'' the former Decepticon repeated after his friend; Rodimus nodded. ''Let me guess, the backup team 'will be ready' in Iacon?''  


''Well... You see right through me'' admitted the red mech and went quiet. Suddenly he wailed: ''Come on! I have to do something!''  


''Magnus won't allow it'' stated Drift calmly.  


''We'll see...'' said Rodimus, an unsettling strain in his voice.

///

The bridge went silent for a long while. The realisation was slowly sinking in. They were stuck here. In Iacon. In a ghost town. The enemy was surrounding them. No one could help them. They were isolated, all alone... They were an easy prey.

The bots exchanged glances and suddenly Ironhide perceived who was standing right behind the Prime. The red mech growled and clenched his fists, the sound of cannon engaging filled the cockpit. Megatron gave him a disregarding look – it only worsened the situation.  


''It's not the time...'' muttered Ratchet, dunching Ironhide.  


''Who allowed him to walk freely...?''  


''Enough of this'' said Optimus. The red mech sighed theatrically and lowered his weapon, Megatron just smirked.  


''I'm not aiming at him so he's not showing those rusty fangs'' growled Hide. The Prime ignored them and turned his attention to Prowl.  


''We should evacuate. We are an easy target here in the open'' he stated and the Praxian nodded.  


''Spliting up would be a terrible idea'' added the officer. ''Wandering through the city isn't safe either'' he speculated.  


''Nonetheless, we need to move'' said the Prime and looked at the warlord. ''Megatron, do you have any idea where the enemy's base is located?''  


''They are everywhere'' stated the grey mech blankly. ''We can't hide.''  


Arcee rolled her optics and spat: ''Stop spouting nonsense!''  


Megatron glared at her but she remained unimpressed and continued when Optimus didn't attempt to reprimand her.  


''Don't tell me that 'the ruthless Lord of the Decepticons' is now so depressed because something offlined his soldiers!'' she mocked. ''Where is your precious spy-master? I haven't seen him among the corpses...'' she went on, narrowing her optics. ''You want to trick us, don't you?'' she hissed.

Megatron didn't answer, he was still glaring at the femme. He knew that she was one of Optimus' most loyal and valorous soldiers but he hadn't predicted such turn of events. He had to answer. If he didn't respond to this accusation, their suspicion would only develope... They would leave him here. Facing this misterious opponent with a battleship was a great mistake, let alone fighting them at his own...  


''I can try to contact Soundwave if you insist'' said Megatron calmly.  


''Fancy that!'' exclaimed Arcee, shooking her helm. Ironhide mumbled something to himself, Ratchet heard it and nodded. Prowl seemed unimpressed – he had predicted that the warlord was fooling them. Only Optimus remained calm and did not show any signs of prejudice against the Decepticon. He gestured for Megatron to use the console.  


''I surmised that they disabled our comunication systems'' muttered the grey mech, so that only the Prime could hear him.  


''So did I'' replied Optimus quietly, still gesturing to the console.

///

Ultra Magnus was contentedly wandering through the hallways – it seemed the whole crew was at peace. No one had tried to question Prime's orders, even Rodimus. Even Rodimus. Magnus didn't want to be suspicious, he believed that Rodimus finally came to his senses. He had seen the young officer talking with Drift who seemed to be a collected, responsible mech. Maybe the former Decepticon had managed to convince his friend? Magnus hoped for it... For the moment he decided to make the best of the little while of tranquility. Therefore he walked unhurriedly towards the bridge, looking on as some mechs were chattering, drinking energon in the mess hall... It was indeed an idyllic scene – all those soldiers eroded by the endless conflict talking casually, joking... They at last felt at ease. They truly did. Magnus had seen many things during his function and fake jauntiness was one of them. He had observed such attitude countless times – mostly among the Wreckers. All those cheeky smiles, smirks, black humour, recklessness – they had the same primary task, namely releasing tension. Facing death, despair and misery – it wasn't easy and the squad had had to find a way to put their minds in neutral. Many officers disliked the Wreckers because of their way of life – Magnus hadn't been any exception, he had gotten easily irritated by Wheeljack or Springer... Then he had finally understood them. When he had been ordered to take the lead of the squad, he had had to spend more time with them and integrate... The Wreckers were no different from other mechs – they fought, they did their best, they suffered. Their duties were harder than those of other soldiers, therefore the Wreckers had needed to proof themselves. They had become tough and short-tempered – they had done what had been necessary and Magnus didn't judge them for it.  


The officer reached the bridge and only then the spell was broken. Magnus froze and listened to Rodimus who once again tried to talk the crew into something. The blue mech sighed quietly, standing in the doorway and watching as the young officer was trying to reason the pilot.  


''You really want to rust in here?'' asked Rodimus, raising his optic ridges.  


''Maybe I don't want but I have to'' said Sideswipe, smirking. ''You know, somebody have to fly this thing'' he added, patting the console.  


''Sure thing...'' the red mech muttered, folding his servos. ''Well, Sides... if you're a chicken...''  


''I'm what...?'' Sideswipe frowned, sensing the hint of cattiness in Rodimus' voice. The young officer shrugged, a smug smile never leaving his faceplates.  


''An organic term for discribing...'' he started but stopped in mid-sentence when he noticed the mech standing in the doorway. He truned on his hill and having heard a mumbled ''whatever'' from Sideswipe, moved towards Magnus.  


The officer in charge seemed displeased – even Rodimus' beaming didn't help. Ultra Magnus glowered at the red mech, his lip plates drawn into a thin line. He expected an explanation and none had come he demanded harshly:  
''Well...?''  


''Well what?'' asked Rodimus innocently. Magnus took his 'do-not-play-with-me' stance, still glaring at the young officer.  


''What were you doing?'' came the terse clarification.  


''Talking to Sideswipe'' answered the red mech casually.  


''About?'' the blue one still wasn't satisfied with the explanation. Rodimus sighed heavily and rolled his optics. Why was every one so suspicious towards him?  


''I'm recruiting the back-up team.''  


''Did Optimus call you?''  


Another suspicious glance. Oh, Primus...  


''No'' stated the red mech and continued when Magnus was about to scold him. ''I want the team to be ready. Y'know, prepared and all... I can show you the shuttle, the equipment...''  


''Very well'' the officer in charge cut him off with a nod. Rodimus was caught off guard. Ultra Magnus wished to see the shuttle...? The young mech had expected him to turn his offer down... He had assumed that the blue one would have grimaced and muttered some ''No, thank you'', then walked away shuddering at the prospect of spending more time with him... Suddenly Rodimus came up with an idea. He smiled portentously. Ultra Magnus wanted to see the shuttle? He shall see it...  


The red mech gestured to the officer in charge and led the way.

The hangar was almost empty – Optimus had forbidden the whole crew from leaving the Ark without his authorisation so no one had any interest in spending their time in the hangar. Almost no one. Therefore when Rodimus and Magnus arrived, some one was standing near one of the numerous shuttles and waved at them. Walking towards the ship, the officer in charge was trying to figure out who was standing there. Some one 'recruited' by Rodimus obviously... As they were coming closer, the silhouette became familiar and finally Magnus recognised Jazz. That was weird... Jazz had never questioned Optimus orders so how had Rodimus manged to talk him into this 'back-up team'? Maybe the young officer wasn't fooling him this time and he truly wanted to be prepared for the eventual Prime's call? Magnus caught himself being on a guilt trip – was he angry at himself for suspecting Rodimus of rioting? For Primus' sake, his distrust was reasoned! The officer sighed heavily – he could swear that Rodimus was up to something and he was scolding himself for the mistrust at the same time...  


''Inspection, huh?'' asked Jazz, a cheeky smile adorning his faceplates. ''Or maybe you're joining our back-up team, Magnus?''  


Ultra Magnus didn't like Jazz' tone and smile at all. Something was wrong here but he hadn't yet found out what. Rodimus showed him around the shuttle and introduced the crew to him, then explained that they're 'so prepared' – that's why they all are waiting abroad the little ship so that they could leave immediately when Optimus called for help.  


Standing at the bridge, Magnus was watching the bots abroad while Rodimus was talking about something rather insignificant. Something was wrong here but... Suddenly the officer in charge heard a quite 'whoosh'. He rapidly turned around and faced Springer who appeared in the doorway out of nowhere. Magnus narrowed his optics, looking at his former lieutenant. An amused smile spread across the green mech faceplates. The officer in charge turned around once again – he hadn't noticed that Rodimus had gone silent...  


''What's going on?'' Ultra Magnus demanded, glaring at each of the bots; the red one shrugged and cracked a smile. ''What, in the name of...'' the blue mech was cut off by the roar of starting engines. His optics widened and he slammed his fist at the nearest console. Springer chuckled, seeing the officer losing his composure.  


''Rodimus, what is the meaning of this?!''  


''Easy there...'' The red mech patted him on the shoulder, still smiling. ''You wouldn't let us go now...''  


''And you thought that it would be a good idea to bring Ultra Magnus here and take him with us?'' asked Drift sceptically.  


''Sounds like a plan'' said Springer.  


''Not really'' snapped Drift, giving the Wrecker a sharp look.  


''Or at least a stupid one'' said Jazz, turning away from the main console to take a look at the, so called, crew. Magnus only sighed.

///

Megatron growled and turned to look at the Autobots following his every move. The red one (no need to remember his designation) was glaring – just like the medic and the femme. The Praxian was just watching from behind his visor, his expression neutral. The warlord observed that he resembled Soundwave in some ways – especially with this inscrutability... The Prime wasn't looking at Megatron and when the grey mech followed his gaze, it turned out that Optimus was analysing the maze of signs which appeared on the screen.  


''I told you that they disabled the communication systems'' the former gladiator growled, pointing one of his claws at the computer. The Praxian titled his helm and Megatron could see him narrowing his optics behind the visor.  


''The messeges are issueing forth from our shuttle...'' Prowl stated slowly. ''And they never reach the receiver...''  


''Indeed'' the grey mech snapped.  


''So what? We go in the open and let them spot us?'' barked Ironhide, glaring at the warlord as if he had been one of the mysterious opponetnts. ''Are we going to chose our hideout at random?!'' the red mech had evidently run out of patience.  


''Not necessarilly...'' said Optimus quietly, taking a closer look at the screen. ''It's a code. Our messege must have been received and, presumably, this is an answer. It's encrypted so that the enemy won't understand it.''  


''Or it's the enemy trying to fool us'' added Arcee.  


''Can you decipher this messege?'' asked Megatron, consciously ignoring the femme. The Prime looked directly at him, mulling something over.  


''I can try'' he finally said.  


''It can be a trap'' repeated Arcee, her voice filled with irritation.  


''Let's decipher it. Then we will debate if we should follow some sent instructions or not'' suggested Prowl. Megatron decided that he can tolerate this Praxian – he seemed quite reasonable. Furthermore the warlord felt relieved to know that Optimus wasn't keeping only some quick-tempered fools around him.  


The Prime nodded and got down to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be a bit longer but I'm rushed off my feet because of the incoming end of semester... There will be a longer interaction between Optimus and Megs in the 4th chapter so stay tuned ;)  
> Hope You like this chapter, please tell me what You think!


	4. Moving forward

The flood of random letters and numbers was still there and one could simply got the impression that nothing had happened. But the constant clicking confirmed that the Prime was doing his best to decipher the messege. The whole shuttle was quiet – even Ironhide stopped snarling each time when Megatron... was doing literally anything (including standing with his servos folded). They all were observing Optimus who had his undivided attention given to the screen. He didn't even look at the console – his digits were working at their own while his optics were locked on the sequence. His lip-plates were drawn into a thin line, his expression thoughtful. Megatron was watching him carefully – he knew those slight moves, this concentration, the sound of digits hitting the right buttons... So there was still some Orion left in the Prime – the warlord had to admit it. Someone may say that there was nothing special about the way Optimus was working but for Megatron... He would recognize Pax anywhere – even among horde of archivists.

''Coordinates'' stated Prowl, looking at the sequence which had cleared up a little. The Prime nodded, his gaze still fixed on the screen. It took another breem of clicking and finally Optimus straightened up.  


''The Citadel'' he specified.  


''That's tricky'' said Arcee. ''Citadel is a nice place for a shelter – all those weapons... but it's a good place for a trap as well... So it's time for 'discussing it', isn't it, Prowl?'' she asked out of spite. The Praxian seemed unimpressed (as he always did) and crossed his servos.  


''It's not far from here. It used to be our command centre'' he recited. ''We know our way around the Citadel...'' he added, giving Optimus a meaningful look. The Prime was considering his words for a short while, feeling Megatron's optics still fixed on him.  


''So we're giving it a try or not? Get to the brass tacks...'' Ironhide muttered but everyone could hear him nonetheless.  


''It can be a trap'' Arcee repeated herself once again, irritation becoming transparent in her voice.  


''I thought Prowl is our voice of reason...''  


''Ironhide, please...'' Ratchet sighed, giving the red mech a 'just-for-once-please-try-to-cooperate' look. The only response he got was a negligent shrug. That was just like Ironhide – he was a warrior and couldn't stand the inactivity. The stagnation was driving him mad ever since it had been said that the war was over. At first he had been happy – they all were, even if the end of the Great War meant accepting the loss of their homeworld. There was nothing left to fight for – both armies were decimated and the time had come to start building something instead of wiping another world out. Unfortunately, some mechs were simply made for war (or maybe they had forgotten how to live in a reality without bullets flying all around) and the prospect of rebuiling the society, political system and even the sense of security – it was unthinkable. Mechs like Ironhide could no longer imagine Cybertron without the great conflict – they always felt the urge to do anything...

The moment Prowl wanted to speak up, Ironhide's prayers seemed to be answered – something hit the shuttle which shook violently and keeled over. Everything turned, shook again and eventually they all were heaped up atop the screen which, only kliks earlier, had become a shattered mess when one of Megatron's spaulders had come into contact with it. Without any warning the lights were switched off – the emergency lighting didn't power on. Darkness engulfed the whole ship.And then there was silence.  


For a long moment no one dared to move – they were all listening, trying to pick anything up... with no result. The former gladiator was the first to stand up and glance around the shuttle. His crimson optics were just two sharp points in the dark interior. In a twinkiling another pair of shining dots appeared. Megatron knew that it was Optimus who raised to his pedes – he would recognize this subtle glow everywhere.  


''Everyone alright?'' the Prime asked.  


Always the one to care for others, the warlord thought, sparing a glance at the Autobot leader, only to find out that those blue optics weren't searching for the fallen subordinates. They were locked on him. Another hint to remind Megatron of Orion – this expecting look. He could easily recall numeropus moments from the past when Pax had given him that look – those cerulean blue optics fixed on him, a bit of sharpness in them covered by trust. Orion used to trust his judgement and the Prime...?  


_'Megatronus, do something.'_   


Some mumbling, cursing and soon the rest of the crew was standing upright, only then the lord of the Decepticons unsheathed his sword and made his way towards the loading bay. To his utter surprise the first to follow him was the red mouthy mech, Optimus must have dropped back to make sure that nobody got hurt.  


Megatron stood before the closed door, gazing at it and wondering if he wasn't acting too impulsively. He had no idea what was out there. He hadn't seen the enemy, he hadn't faced them, instead... He clenched his fists. There was no place for some 'instead' – he needed... they needed to get out of there immediately before something got inside...  


Suddenly there was a low clicking sound and the red mech (Megatron still did not care for his name) stepped forward and aimed one of his impressive cannons at the door. He shot. The weapon made no noise – only a single hiss, but the outcome was satisfying by all means: wide hole replaced the door. Megatron made a mental note about the red mech – he was a weapon specialist, wasn't he? That meant he might be useful from time to time...

The grey mech raised his gaze at the thorughfare straggling before him. He felt as if he had been gladiator again. Images from his first match emerged at the back ofhis processor... That was the excatly same feeling. Only the wild crowd was missed, replaced by mute buildings. The same thrill climbing up his backstrut, making his systems prepare for a fight, for a near death experience even... The battle protocol engaged. This irresistible lust for tear something apart appeared. The impression that he was not an average Cybertronian anymore – he became something more, something feroscious, something close to those blood-thirsty organic beasts...  


He stepped outside of the shuttle, the common sense banished from his thoughts. Megatron scaned the area for any threats (or anything to hit)... He somehow forgot about the mysterious enemy who destroyed his flagship and almost offlined him – he wanted to fight, his systems were overwhelmed by the urge for a brawl... Someone stood beside him. Primus, Megatron wanted to hit this one particular mech so badly. Tear this fragging battlemask off and then sink his claws in those fine faceplates, hear him scream in agony, feel him kicking, struggling...  


The frosty stare brought him back to reality.  


_'Megatronus, for Primus' sake, take hold of yourself...'_   


The lust for a fight which had overtaken him was gone instantly. He looked back at the red and blue mech but he already turned his attention to someone else.

''…gone for now. There's only an indentation – it wasn't blaster fire, something had to hit into the shuttle and... ran away?'' the Praxian seemed unconvinced by his own theory. He took a step back, his doorwings hanging down ruefully.  


''We should move'' said Ratchet, shooting suspicious glances at each of the abandon buildings surrounding them.  


''And what if that's what they want us to do?'' Arcee titled her head, both her blasters aimed at the ruins sprawled ahead. ''They grew tired of waiting and decided to smoke us out?''  


''I prefer escaping from a trap instead of waiting for them to attack us directly in the...'' Ironhide went quiet for a moment, watching the shuttle. ''In this wreck.''  


''Citadel?'' asked Prowl, looking at the Prime who nodded and without a word headed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> First of all, sorry for the recent inactivity. This story isn't dead - I simply had no time for writing...  
> This chapter is short but I hope that still there's some content to be found in it... Please, tell me what You think about this chapter.


	5. The Greeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I'm sorry that it took me so long to write a new chapter... I was really busy... and I've just passed one of my final exams :D  
> So well... I'm very happy and I'll try to add chapters regularly. Oh, and I corrected the previous chapters - they look better and are easier to read :)  
> Hope You enjoy this one (I'm quite proud of it)

While Iacon used to be the jewel in the crown of Cybertron, it proved itself as a ghost city. The high buildings surrounding the thoroughfare had sustained major damage during the Great War and had stood there abandoned for millenia. The time had had no mercy for the metropolis and had hepled it become a shadow of its former self. The run-down skyscrapers were beaming with their sharp teeth comprised of broken windows, greeting the few visitors. The forced doors were widely open, inviting in. The ghosts of the inhabitants were glancing expectantly at the passersby, hoping they would swing by... The whole city-state was filled with dead silence but the constant feeling of being watched made up for the lack of hustle and bustle.

The Citadel lay relatively close to the place where the Autobot shuttle had landed, but the way drew out when the group was forced to cover the distance in root mode. They had been on the horns of a dilemma, but Megatron's bad shape had coloured the decision; hence they were walking – Optimus leading the way, the warlord not far behind, Ratchet and Ironhide keeping a close optic on the Decepticon, Prowl accompanied by Arcee as the rearguard.

They walked in silence, but Megatron would swear that the medic and this mouthy veteran were badmouthing him on a private commlink. He'd only snorted when realised they may be talking about him – he'd had more pressing matters on his mind.

The grey mech was peering at the abandoned buildings, unconsciously flexing his clawed digits. The battle protocols hadn't engaged yet, nonetheless he was on high alert, his blade already drawn. It felt like the Arena, he could almost hear the crowds screaming his name, smell the stech of burnt circuits and energon... He could feel the optics fixed on him, espeacially those cerulean ones... Orion had rarely attended the matches – he'd been too kind-sparked. Megatron looked at the mech walking before him, trying to find the archivist in Optimus' movements and posture... but the scars were distracting him. The Prime was far too war-weary to be Orion – just like Iacon was a shadow of its glory, the Autobot leader was a barely audible echo of Orion Pax...

He was snapped back to reality by a movement in the corner of his optic. Megatron turned his helm only to find Ratchet walking beside him. The Decepticon raised one optical ridge, wondering what the medic was up to.

They were marching in silence for a long while, Ratchet ignoring the warlord who was keeping a wry optic on him and finally the Autobot asked: ''You mind telling me what got into you back there when we left the shuttle?''

Megatron didn't answer and turned his gaze to the street ahead, ignoring the medic.

''Stop playing the fool'' Ratchet didn't pull back. ''I saw you. You looked like a famished sparkeater and if it wasn't for Optimus to stare you down...''

Megatron gave the medic an irritated look.

''So?'' the Autobot smirked, seeing that the warlord was about to give him the answer in order to get rid of his company.

''That is none of your interest'' Megatron managed not to growl.

''Well, believe me or not, but I feel responsible for you. You're a temporary member of this unit and since I'm the only medical officer here...''

The warlord rolled his optics. He had forgotten how annoying and stuborn Ratchet can be... Megatron remembered their first meeting – when there had been no factions, only plotting and criticising actions of the Senate... The medic had stormed into his chamber after one of the matches and the former Terror of Kaon could easily recall the threats which he had heard from Ratchet. What had it all been about? The Decepticon crooked a smile – the medic had listed numerous bad things he would have done to Megatronus if he'd hurt Orion in any way... Ratchet had been very overprotective of his friend – maybe even jealous...

Megatron looked down at the mech walking beside him. Should he answer for the sake of an old sentiment?

''So what was that you wanted to tell me about your mental state?'' the medic asked.

The warlord stayed silent, mulling over that amok which had overtaken him. To be honest, he had no idea what had happened to him. He'd felt such lust for a fight numerous times in his function, but _this_ had been different. Ratchet had come up with the mot juste – something had gotten _into_ him.

''Former-gladiator syndrome'' he muttered, quickening so that the medic was left behind.

His answer obviously didn't satisfy the Autobot, but apparently he didn't try to keep up with Megatron, who soon slowed down and continued the march in silence, his helm bowed and his expression thoughtful.

///

It seemed that a short walk drew out, when one was forced to take it in a ghost city. It wasn't only the constant feeling of being watched, because during the war they all had gotten used to it. It wasn't the caution either – they were looking around carefully, aiming at every shadow, but this kind of alertness was nothing new to the warriors. Countless times before end of the conflict Autobot and Decepticon squads used to manage to cover longer distances in record time. Therefore one could not simply tell why they were going forward so slowly.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Iacon? Not a radom battlefield, but their very home.

Nevertheless, it's common knowledge that the guilty always returns at the scene of crime... and the cities of Cybertron were nothing but sprawling scenes of crime. It was only a matter of time before both factions would be brought to justice...

Optimus raised his gaze ubruptly, barely managing to stop his frame from trembling. He felt _it_ again, but this time wasn't as overwhelming and afflicted different part of his spark.

This time the sensation didn't make his spark yearn for home. This time it filled him with dread.

The worst of it all was probably the fact that he couldn't tell what was he afraid of. The irrational fear kept whispering in his processor, leading his thoughts astray. The Prime had a hard time concentrating on his surroundings, therefore he put effort into concealing his uncertainity.

Out of the corner of his optic Optimus saw Megatron who suddenly appeared beside him. The Autobot leader didn't want anyone to notice that he felt uneasy, nevertheless he _appreciated_ company of this particular mech at the moment.

''If it wasn't the Matrix, what was it then?'' the Prime asked, his voice far calmer than he'd expected.

Apparently, Optimus snapped the warlord out of some contemplation, but the Decepticon quickly regained his composure and quirked an optical ridge.

''You called me a fool for believing that the Matrix had told me to bring my fleet to Cybertron'' the red and blue mech specified.

''I did'' said Megatron with a curt nod.

Optimus curled his digits and then unclenched his fist, hoping that it would help in realising the tension built in his frame. He was glad that he'd shut his battlemask and half of his facplate stayed hidden behind it.

The tremendous voice was still piercing his processor, echoing and resonating inside him, making him wince. He wanted to turn his audioreceptors off, however he knew that would be useless – this whispers were _inside_ him. Optimus was at wits' end – he felt that he wouldn't take it for much longer... His frame had been already giving in to the weakness and passivity, which had been successively taking him over. His vision started becoming blurred. He felt the urge to capitulate – he wanted this madness to end...

''The Citadel'' familiar raspy voice brought him back to life. The Prime forced himself to focus and raised his gaze at the fortress soaring on the horizon.

''And where is your snooper?'' Ironhide demanded and Optimus didn't need to look at the red mech to know that he was aiming one of his canons (if not both of them) at Megatron's back.

''You tell me, Autobot. It's your Citadel'' the warlord growled in reply.

''It would be very reckless of him to come out of his hiding to greet us, when we're still in the open'' said the Praxian, his voice flat. ''I presume, we should come closer.''

Ironhide snorted, but no one dared to argue with Prowl's matter-of-fact tone.

The group neared the main entrance, each mech shooting suspicious glances at the towering bulk of the Citadel. When they reached the shadow line, there was a moment of hesitation. Everything went quiet and they listened, but no alarming noises came... They stepped into the half-darkness and the shadow swallowed them making the thoroughfare seem overly bright and unreal.

Suddenly there was a quick movement somewhere between the decorative archs on the portal - a dark shape went into a dive and alighted gracefully right before the group.

Soundwave drew himself up to his full height and gestured with one of his slender servos towards the gateway. Ironhide mumbled something but followed when the rest decided to trust the silent mech.

The Decepticon spymaster led them through the enormous hall, weaving between the columns. Just like the rest of Iacon, the Citadel was a poor reflection of its former glory – the fortress was falling apart: the light was streaming into the nave by huge holes created by bombs, the elaborate pattern on the floor had been lost under the blanket of dust and debris, reliefs on the portals of side entrances had been fractured and numerous sculptures had suffered from slow decapitation.

The group walked into one of the wide corridors, where the stained glass windows had been boarded up. The passage led into a large chamber filled with rows of pews and decayed scalptures.

When Megatron entered the room, few pairs of red optics peered out of the shadows. Whispers echoed in the chamber, but none of the Autobots managed to understand what they were saying. The Decepticons reluctuntly emerged from the darkness and assembled before their leader, bowing their helms respectfully. There were not many of them (but still more than the 'bots had been expecting) – each one had fresh dents engraved in their armours and painted in all shades of blue. They were all covered with dirt and dried energon. It appeared some had been just patched up, while others were missing limbs and even a gifted medic couldn't help them without spare parts. To cut a long story short, the Decepticons looked miserable and the fact that the seekers were nowhere to be seen only emphasized their wretchedness...

''Where is Starscream?'' asked the warlord, narrowing his optics.

''An unidentified object entered the airspace the moment the force field was emitted. The object crash-landed. Starscream went to investigate the area'' explained Soundwave in a monotone.

The Autobots exchanged worried glances.

///

He slowly onlined his optics and had to wait until the blurred vision cleared a bit. He expected the ceiling of the shuttle to be above him, but the smooth surface was gone, replaced by few indented skyscrapers and livid firmament.

He tried to sit up, but the movement made him grunt in pain. He turned his helm, it wasn't hard to find the source of his agony – his chasis and servo were separated by a shard. He reached and struggled to pull the troublesome fragment out to no effect.

Exhausted, he gave up. He offlined his optics, trying to recall the recent events, but it seemed that he'd damaged some parts of his processor as well... maybe he'd hit the ground too hard? He hoped so. At least he knew that he could still move...

''Well, well, well... what do we have here?'' a high-pitched voice he knew too well pealed. ''Ultra Magnus himself!''

He onlined his optics loathly and grimaced when the view he'd awaken to was replaced by Starscream's faceplate twisted by a disgusting smirk.

''I knew there must be someone _important_ with you'' the seeker said, studying Magnus, making him feel uneasy.

Starscream bent down and pulled the shred out without warning, which resulted in the Autobot officer groaning with pain. The seeker chuckled in a malignant way, then scowled suddenly.

''Now get up, Autobot. We don't have much time...'' he snapped, turned on his hill and left.

Magnus braced his left servo against the ground, the other one hanging limply at his side, and rose to his pedes.

Starscream hadn't come alone – Skywarp and Thundercracker stood outside the wreck. Between the two were the Autobots – Springer had numerous leaking gashes in frame, furthermore he was in good shape compared to the rest... Wheeljack stood in a large pool of energon, balancing on one pede, while Jazz was leaning on the Wrecker, his visor distrubingly dimmed.

''Where are Rodimus and Drift...?'' asked Magnus, his voice weaker than he'd expected.

''We don't have time for this'' hissed Starscream, looking suspiciously at the buildings around them. ''We have to go back to the Citadel.'' he added, his voice grim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome and appreciated :)  
> And about the next chapter... things are gonna get freaky... really freaky.


	6. Bonds and Bounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I'm quite nervous about this chapter because this is the 'point of no return'. I can only hope that You'll like this one - I honestly have no idea how You will react...  
> This chapter gets freaky at the end. (And somehow some Rodimus/Ultra Magnus sneaked into the story... I don't how it happened...)  
> You've been warned.  
> Enjoy! (Please...)

What a nasty surprise it must have been for Starscream, when he swaggered through the entrance, Skywarp and Thundercracker following him suit, escorting the prisoners, and there was no boisterous greeting.

Instead he got a few stares and muffled comments. That was rather unexpected, especially when he brought spare parts in the shape of an Autobot unit... The Decepticons should be grateful for his effort – he'd risked his very function for their sake! Starscream narrowed his optics – something was not right here... He made a move towards the center of the chamber, feeling that everyone was watching him as if something spectacular was about to happen. He heard Skywarp rushing the Autobots, shoving them in order to make them follow the leader of the seekers.

Starscream stopped in the middle of the chamber and crossed his servos, shooting some of the staring mechs admonitory glances. All of a sudden, Soundwave emerged from the shadowy corner near the entrence of the next room and turned his cracked visor at the seeker. Starscream really didn't like the way he had been welcomed, nonetheless, he decided to scold the Decepticons for their luck of respect and thankfulness but he was cut off.

''Have you found anything interesting, Starscream?''

The flier turned around to see a towering figure approaching him. He immediately recognised the spiky armour and the way the mech was carrying himself.

''Lord Megatron! I am so glad to see you alive and well!'' he exclaimed, throwing up his servos in gesture of fake effusiveness. Actually, the warlord looked dreadful – his plating covered by scars and fresh dents but Starscream knew too well that he's at a disadvantage and tried to toady.

''I see you came to your senses after your act of cowardice'' said Megatron, his voice flat, but the seeker knew that he was in deep trouble.

It hadn't been the first time he'd deliberetly ignored Megatron's orders and left him to die but for some reason he could tell that the warlord wasn't mad at him just for betrayal.

The mechs around them were watching this spectacle with great interest, leaning forward and sniggering. Starscream looked at the warlord who was still pinning him down to the floor with his gaze. The seeker swore in thought – was Megatron invicible and even some alien invaders weren't able to dispatch him?

''Release the Autobots'' ordered the former gladiator. He was in no mood for tormenting the seeker.

''What?!'' Starscream shrieked, outraged. Yes, he had abandoned Megatron while the warlord had ordered him to defend the bridge. Yes, he had tried to take command of the Decepticons (again). Nevertheless, that was unthinkable! He'd put his function on the line to capture this Autobots and the 'miraclously-back-from-the-dead' lord Megatron dared to to tell him to release the prisoners?

Starscream clenched his fists, his wings raised in irritation, while the former gladiator narrowed his crimson optics, ready to put the seeker in his place.

''Excuse me!'' said a female voice and to Starscream's surprise an Autobot femme made her way through the crowd of Decepticons. ''If you don't mind, I'll take this guys to the medbay'' she announced, offhandly pushing Skywarp away. The seeker aimed at her but suddenly Soundwave appeared at his side and grabbed him by the servo, forcing him to stand down. The blue femme nodded her thanks to the spymaster and led the other Autobots to another room.

''What have you...?'' Starscream started, outraged even further, but Megatron cut him off harshly: ''I will not punish you for your previous actions, Starscream, and you should be grateful for this. Dismissed.''

Then the warlord shot his – presumably former – second in command one last scornful look and strode out of the chamber.

///

''Seekers come on strong...''

''You don't say'' mumbled Wheeljack in reply, watching the Decepticon medic welding one of the dents on his side.

Knock Out shrugged, moving away and then watching the Wrecker caustiously.

''Ever thought about repainting it?'' he asked, gesturing at Wheeljack's chest plate, which earned him an annoyed glare. ''Just asking'' the medic said, this time not even trying to hide his disgust. He walked away to put the welder on a metal table, where the rest of his medical equipment lay.

''Still, it's nice to have more than one grounder around, you know?'' the red mech said, approaching Wheeljack, another tool in his servos.

''You talk a lot, you know?'' scoffed Springer from where Ratchet was patching him up. ''Frag, that hurts!'' he yelled and glared at the Autobot medic who had just scalded him with a welder.

''Then hold still and let me do my job'' Ratchet grumbled in reply.

The makeshift medbay was small, compared to other chambers of the wing occupied by the united forces of Autobots and Decepticons. There were two adjoining rooms – one was suppoused to be a operating theatre, while the other had been announced to be a recovery ward. So far it was enough but the medics didn't want to think about a situation when more then one berth was needed.

''Well, I doubt one of the seekers did this'' said Knock Out, examining Wheeljack's limp limb. The Wrecker didn't even flinch when the medic poked his knee-joint with a probe, that only made the Decepticon frown.

''You know, we kinda crash-landed...'' mumbled Springer, giving Knock Out an annoyed look.

''I thought you were supposed to wait for Optimus' order'' Ratchet cut in, raising an optical ridge. The green Autobot smirked, seeing medic's disapproval.

''We were bored'' he said and yelled once again – this time Ratchet scalded him on purpose.

The white and orange mech stepped aside, giving Springer some space so that the Wrecker could jump from the examination table and check if nothing more needed medical attention.

''So you ignored Prime's orders... but Magnus?'' asked Ratchet, putting the welder back, not looking at the patients.

Silence followed, what made the medics exchange glances.

''It was Rodimus' doing'' Magnus, who had just emerged from the recovery ward, spoke up, his faceplate unreadable but certainly not content.

''How's Jazz?'' Knock Out was the first to try to lighten the atmosphere.

For the first time in his function Wheeljack saw Ultra Magnus puzzled – the officer seemed perplexed by the sudden change of subject. The Wrecker frowned - something was _really_ wrong here – had Magnus hit his helm too hard or... was he _worried_ about Rodimus? That didn't make any sense since the officer hated the young mech...

''He's still unconscious'' answered Ultra.

''Nothing I wouldn't have expected... And you?''

''I'm fine'' the blue mech said curtly, sparing a glance at his servo.

Only then Wheeljack ran out of patience: ''You know what? I'm done. All this chit-chat is making me feel sick. Why are you so nice to us?'' he asked, glaring at the Decepticon who smiled innocently.

''The war is over...'' muttered Ratchet, obviously annoyed by the Wrecker.

''Heard it already, doc'' barked Wheeljack. ''I wanna know why the seekers almost killed us and now this beau is helping us like nothing happened!''

''You can say that we have a ceasefire if you don't belive that the war is over'' said Magnus in a flat voice before Ratchet could snap at the Wrecker.

''Wow'' mumbled Wheeljack in fake awe. ''So this is what you've been doing here instead of checking out the wreck of the Nemesis. Making ceasefires with Decepticons. I must have forgotten that Prime's been in charge'' he added out of spite.

Ratchet's digits curled around the handle of his favourite wrench. Magnus heaved a sigh, giving Wheeljack a tired look, while Knock Out made up an excuse so that he could leave the room.

The silence lingered.

''We found Megatron aboard the Nemesis'' growled the Autobot medic. ''He was in stasis lock. Optimus wanted to know what had happened to him. Then we met up with the Decepticons who had survived the skirmish... and Prime and Megatron decided to join forces so that we can defeat this invaders – end of.''

Wheeljack looked at Ratchet in silence for a while, then slipped of the examination table and left, summing up the situation with a curt 'whatever'. Springer seemed to feel uneasy, he folded his servos and followed his comrade.

''Yeah, well... I'll... make sure he won't get into trouble...'' he mumbled on the doorstep.

Ratchet shook his helm and muttered something under his breath, then started organising the tools lying on the metal table. When another while passed, he looked over his shoulder, raising an optical ridge.

''Do you need anything, Magnus?'' he asked, watching the mech in question in search of any sign of distress.

''No... I just... wanted... need to report... Do you know where Optimus is?'' the officer finally found the right words.

Ratchet's frown only deepened – Ultra Magnus stammering?

''There is a chamber at the end of the corridor – it's a temporary headquarters. He should be there with Prowl...'' the medic hestitated before adding that Megatron or other high-ranking Decepticons could be there too. He decided to leave it unsaid – they all felt uneasy about this cooperation and Ratchet presumed that Magnus was just good at hiding his displeasure.

The officer nodded in acknowledgement and left the makeshift medbay without a word.

///

The majority sees, but does not observe – the distinction is clear, especially for Prowl who perceived the world to be full of obvious things that noone by any chance ever makes out.

The Praxian was a perceptive mech, moreover he was a maven when it came to forseeing other's behaviours. He could easily predict what would happen with pinpoint accuracy and develope not only scenerios but also the best way to deal with a particular problem.

He knew that something was wrong with the Prime and it was high time to devise a solution, therefore he'd been watching the officer, when they'd been establishing the rules of the ceasefire. Megatron seemed to have noticed Optimus' nervousness too but Prowl, though he'd spent millenia analysing the warlord's strategy, didn't know him well enough to tell if the Decepticon was in the picture.

The three of them stood around a holotable where the three-dimentional plan of the Citadel was displayed, while Soundwave occupied the main computer, trying to bring it back so that they would be able to activate the remains of the defense system.

''Before any further exploration of the city-center we should make sure that the Citadel is a safe location'' Optimus stated, gesturing to the scaled down bulk of the fortress.

''You don't trust my soldiers?'' asked Megatron and to Prowl's surprise there was no venom or animosity in his voice. What made the Praxian raise his optical ridges was the actual teasing tone. Was Megatron trying to ease Prime's mind...?

''I do trust you and your soldiers'' Optimus seemed not to have noticed the warlord's attempts (or was Prowl imagining things?). ''However, at the moment we control only the east wing'' he stated and then added, looking up from the hologram: ''There used to be a well-stocked armoury in the south wing.''

''I see'' Megatron nodded. ''In that case we should form a few scouting parties...''

''The Citadel is enormous. I'm afraid, we are too low on numbers'' Optimus said with a barely audiable tone of hesitation, which was immediately picked up by Prowl.

''So you intend to send individual scouts, I assume?'' the Decepticon asked, frowning slightly.

''I do...'' answered Optimus after a rather long pause.

Once again Prowl felt that it's time to act but he hadn't gathered enough information on the issue yet and wasn't able to come up with a solution. Despite the fact that he didn't show any sign of his inner disturbance, when he glanced up, he found Megatron looking at him in a meaningful way.

The Praxian could be proud of himself: his first conclusion turned out to be correct – the warlord not only noticed Optimus' odd behaviour, but also seemed _worried_.

''Prime, I think...'' Prowl spoke up, seeing that Megatron wanted him to talk the Autobot leader into visiting the medbay.

Unfortunately, he had to stop in mid-sentence because, all of sudden, Ultra Magnus stormed into the headquarters, his expression serious. That only made Prowl's frown deepen, when the image of offlined Vehicons entered his mind. He needed to talk with Megatron about the way his troops had been behaving right before and during the attack on the Nemesis.

''Prime, sir...'' faltered Magnus, his optics wandering from Optimus to the furrowing warlord.

''What is it, Ultra Magnus?'' the red and blue mech asked with some difficulty.

''I... I'm sorry to bother you, sir... I wanted to... to report... It seems that I ignored your direct orders...''

Prime folded his servos and managed to keep his expression neutral, then he nodded to the officer to show that he was willing to hear the report. Magnus regained his composure and went on: ''Shortly after your departure Rodimus started, as he called it, 'recruiting the back up team'. I decided to intervene but... he manoeuvred me into going aboard the shuttle he'd had prepared.'' He paused, fighting with himself, his regret evident. ''Rodimus had persuaded Drift, Jazz, Springer and Wheeljack to come with him. They took off without permission. When the shuttle entered the atmosphere something hit the ship. It damaged the thruster and we lost control over the shuttle. When were trying to eject, we crashed into a building. The shuttle was torn in half. We were separated. Rodimus and Drift... went missing. We hit the ground. The seekers found us and...''

''That is enough, Ultra Magnus. Thank you'' Optimus cut him off suddenly. ''I'm afraid that we have to declare Rodimus and Drift missing in action. We cannot afford to search for them now'' he stated, his voice flat. ''Megatron, Prowl will help you find scouts to explore the fortress'' he adressed the warlord and the Praxian couldn't do much more than mutter a curt 'yessir'. ''Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the north wing...''

''The north wing?'' the Decepticon interuppted Optimus, giving him a sceptical look.

Prime stared back at him, stern expression never leaving his faceplate.

''There used to be a sanctum there'' he explained, sounding offended.

After this had been said, no one dared to stop him when he was leaving the headquarters, although they all thought the same. They'd never seen Optimus acting like this.

///

The corridors of the Citadel were wide and high, the ceilings raised on decorative columns. The acoustics magnified every sound – it used to be a good thing in the old days because when some prominent figures had been stroding down the hall, everyone'd known that they'd been coming (the echo of the steps itself used to make the soldiers stand at attention).

Optimus was a prominant figure and when he sunk to his knees in the middle of the abandoned chamber, the loud thud echoed in the whole north wing.

He raised his trembling servos to the back of his helm and dug his digits into the sensitive neck cables, trying to _force_ his very processor to stop spinning.

It overwhelmed him – it was too much, even for a Prime who had led the Autobot army.

He had no idea what was happening to him. The only thing he _knew_ now was his fear.

As he recalled: it all had started with a helmache. They'd managed to persuade both sides not to kill each other and then decided to form a chain of command, after that they had established the rules of the truce... and everything had gone downhill from here. He'd felt a stab of pain in the back of his helm – he'd ignored it, putting it down to the stress of the recent events. He'd made a grave mistake. The ache had only surged, making it hard to focus.

The assuagement had come from the most unlikely of sources. The spine-tingling whisper had sneaked into his processor. His spark had missed a beat when the voice'd pierced through his consciousness. _It_ had spoken and he'd had to listen.

Though unbeliveable it may seem, the voice had been soothing. It had explained everything to him – he could hardly remeber the arguments but one thing he remembered was the fact he'd felt calmer. Somehow the burden had been taken away from him.

The voice had helped him. Optimus had been confused but the whisper had guided him – told him what to do, what to say... It had been like a dream – he'd borne no resposibility for his actions, he'd been...

''... _a puppet_ '' the voice prompted.

Optimus raised his gaze which had been fixed on the floor. He gritted his dentae.

''No...'' he said, his voice quiet and weak.

Whatever it was – he would not let it control him. The fact that he'd allowed the whisper to make the decision about exploring the Citadel was enough.

He didn't think who might have done something to him – he didn't care if someone had hacked him or if it was his own processor playing a trick on him – the most pressing issue right now was to fight _it_.

Optimus straightened his back strut and gathered his strength so that he could stand up. He furrowed when his frame rebeled but the idea of giving up had never crossed his mind. Prime clenched his fists, forcing his reluctunt frame to cooperate.

He managed to stand up.

He took a deep invent, waiting for the voice to speak up but there was only silence. He strained to hear something and suddenly he realised that it wasn't just the whisper in his processor.

The wind wandering through the empty corridors died away as well.

He took a hestitant step forward and stopped short. His optics widened and the fear returned.

He did not hear himself making a step. Yes, Optimus moved with grace but still he was a heavy war machine...

The whisper in his processor didn't chuckle – it didn't show any sign of triumphal. Instead it stated in a low voice: ''You will _not_ disobey your Master.''

Then came the agony. Wave of excruciating pain ran through his back strut and sunk in through his frame, reched every cable, every receptor... He wanted to scream, finding it the best way to alleviate his suffering. He tried to shriek but no sound escaped his vocalizer – it had been switched off. Just like his audioreceptors had been.

The fear overtook him, clouding his thoughts permanently. His spark was pounding and his whole frame shook violently.

His vision became blurry and, if his vocalizer hadn't been turned off, he would start begging the... _the master_... to have mercy. He was so afraid. He had no control over his own frame. The thoughts were revving in his processor, filling him with dread. He felt not only humiliated, but also frightened... In this state he posed a danger to the united armies of Autobots and Decepticons...

Who was it? Who was he now? If there was a master, there had to be... _a slave_. The word echoed in his processor and each time he repeated the statement in his thoughts, it sounded more and more disgusting.

Suddenly the pain ceased.

''You finally accepted your role'' the voice approved.

Then everything went dark.

Optimus didn't panic. He felt lost at first – the thoughts rushing through his processor were slowing down, his mind becoming empty inch by inch. His system had shut down and it seemed that the consciousness had taken away all his memories while leaving. He was drifting in darkness, allowing the oblivion to swallow him...

All of a sudden, something solid and warm enveloped him. The feeling was soothing – it took all his numbness away, replacing it with comfort and care. It felt as if someone was stroking one of his antennas with care. He forgot the pain, he forgot the fear and he forgot _the master_... He was safe, embraced by a protective force.

When Optimus onlined his optics, he found himself in a dimly lit room. He was lying on a berth, medical apparatus connected to his system was humming quietly somewhere on his left.

The soothing feeling was still there, keeping his spark from pounding and ensuring him that nothing would hurt him. 

He barely remembered feeling this way, he could hardly recall the last time he had sensed this protective force embracing him...

His optics widened and his spark skipped a beat. He _remembered_.

Optimus hestitantly turned his helm to the left and the moment their optics met, the soothing feeling was gone.

Prime found himself at loss for words, gazing at Megatron in shock.

''You...?'' he whispered and the tall mech hiden in the shadow nodded in reply.

''H-how...? Why...? It...'' Optimus stammered, confused and disorientated.

A warm wave washed over his spark, making him quieten. His optics were fixed on the crimson ones which kept watching him from the darkness. After a long moment of silence Megatron stood up without a noise, not breaking the optic contact.

''You need to rest'' he stated in a low voice. ''We will talk soon.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... How bad is it? Please, tell me what You think because if the story continues, it will get freakier with every chapter...


	7. Ghosts of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Thank You SO MUCH for telling me what You thought about Chapter 6 - it means a lot!  
> Do You remember when I said that the chapter would be ready on Saturday...? I meant Wednesday of course! xD What I want to say is... I'm SO SORRY! Really, really sorry about the delay... I guess, the updates will never become regular, so sorry once more...  
> About the chapter - it's relatively long... Writing it took me so long but I like the result :) Sorry for any mistakes - I just sat down and rolled up my sleeves, then told myself: 'I have to write it tonight!' Hope You're going to enjoy it as much as I do!

It took him a long while to realise that he had onlined his optics.

The surroundings were cloaked in darkness and the only thing he could tell was that there was a lot of dust and ash suspended in the air. Also, his sensors provided him with the information that the chamber, in which he fetched up, had been constructed of stone and metal; furthermore, iron oxides were present, what meant that his surroundings were rusting. He had to admit it – he couldn't think of a worse place to end up in.

''It's high time to leave...'' he muttered and hesitantly stood up.

When he rose to his pedes, instantly alerts started popping up, inundating him with warnings. His whole frame ached but he managed not to fall. As he learnt from the alerts, the plating had been torn off in some places – the armour plates had taken some of the mechanoreceptors with them and that was the only reason why the pain didn't bother him so much and he could stand upright.

He switched his headlamps on but it only enabled him to see the dust particles. He swore but it didn't help either.

The feeling of defeat was slowly sinking in, while he struggled to resist the temptation of giving up. He scanned the area, turning around in an endless spin, desperately trying to see something beneath the fluttering ash.

''Stop it! You're making me feel sick...!'' a cracked voice spoke out from the darkness.

''Drift?!'' exclaimed Rodimus in joy, directing his headlights at the ground.

After a while which seemed like a joor, he caught a glimpse of white plating. The rays of light were shifting slowly so that they could finally reach the mech.

The happiness that filled Rodimus' spark was indescribable. Only just the relief came, he realised how worried he had been. He hadn't have time to mull it over but the dreadful possibility, that his little crew had died during the crash landing, had been hiding somewhere at the back of his processor. Surely, there would have come a time when it would have struck him down. Fortunately, he had found someone and this 'someone' was his best friend. It was more than enough to lighten his mood. He wasn't the only survivor. He wasn't alone.

The red mech knelt down at his pede beside Drift. He raised his gaze and froze.

''Frag...'' the word escaped his vocalizer before he even registered it.

''Happy to see you, too'' said the white mech and gave the other a crooked smile.

What made Rodimus pull a face was the fact that this smile was really crooked – it wasn't just an expression because Drift's faceplate was scratched badly.

''No, it's... I... Your...'' mumbled the red mech, gesturing to his throat. He had no idea how to put it but his companion just nodded in a sad way.

''I know...'' he spluttered, involuntarily reaching to the place where a peace of shrapnel was stuck. ''That's why I'm not very talkative...'' he added, grimacing because the shard was obviously making it hard – and painful- to speak.

''Like you ever was'' said Rodimus, intending to lighten Drift's mood. ''I'm the chatterbox here!'' he announced, reaching out to the white mech.

''Indeed, you are'' Drift agreed when they were both standing.

They weren't going anywhere for a long while – they just stood there, smiling at each other, cherishing the moment of stillness. Unfortunately, they had to move but neither of them had the spark to admit it aloud. Although they were both wounded and needed to be treated by a medic, the perspective of winding through the darkness didn't appeal to them.

After a rather long pause Rodimus lowered his helm and heaved a sigh; then he looked up hestinatly. Drift didn't nod – it wasn't worth the effort, nonetheless the red mech could see that the answear to his unspoken question is 'yes'. They set off.

The only information provided from their sensors was one property of the dark chamber – the place was enormous. The ceiling hovered high above them, while the nearest wall was said to be out of reach of the detectors - the two mecha didn't even want to imagine how far from them it may lie because thinking about it, brought about another questions. Especially one inquiry kept pestering them: if the chamber was so spacious, something must be hiding in the darkness. The place couldn't be abandoned – leastwise, insecticons had to be domiciled in here, since they were said to get a hold on the centre of Iacon.

They were slowly making their way through the mysterious chamber, struggling not to wonder too much... They were exchanging glances from time to time, to check on each other most of all, but also to see how the companion would react to a strange noise which had appeared suddenly... When they entered an area where the floor was riddled with crumbled stone and metal pieces formed in weird, _sofisticated_ shapes. Rodimus' optics were fixed on the ground, he wasn't only watching his step but also analysing the fragments. He got the impression that he had seen this shapes somewhere, sadly, he could not recall where and when.

Suddenly, Drift's servo appeared on his shoulder pad, making the red mech stop short. Rodimus looked at his companion, his optic ridges raised in question.

The white mech remained silent but his other servo rose up slowly, pointing at the shroud of darkness on their right.

Putting a lot of effort into the simple activity of squinting, he managed to see a figure standing before them. A pair of sickly yellow optics flashed, making it easier for Rodimus to watch the newcomer and for fear to get hold of his spark when he recognised the shape of the mech.

The only thing Rodimus could think of was one word four-letter word. He looked to Drift, seeking explanation but the only thing he found was scare. The white mech was gaping at the figure who resembled him closely.

Rodimus frowned and nudged Drift but his companion didn't move. Then the red mech took him by the servo and at the same time decided to ask the inevitable question – 'who is that creepy guy who looks a lot like you?' - but the answer had been given before he even opened his intake.

''Wing...?'' Drift whined, reaching out to the figure.

Usually Rodimus would try to recall the name and he would remeber that it was the guy thanks to whom Drift had become an Autobout but, unfortunately, the red mech had more pressing matters on his mind at the moment.

The figure staggered towards the two – the moment he moved, dim lights flared up, revealing high jagged monument carring the ceiling. The walls were covered with colourful murals showing the mecha immortalised in stone. In the vicinity stood stalls divided into rows, the time and dampness hadn't spared them – rust was everywhere, nonetheless, the sofisticated patterns looked marvellous. They formed a semicircle, surrounding a luminous flat object at the end of the chamber.

Rodimus didn't have the time to wonder what was the luminousness because in the corner of his optic he saw movement. He turned his helm to the left and froze – just like Drift a few kliks ago.

A figure appeared in front of him. No, not just a figure - _someone_. It was his mentor, his friend. It was the mech who had saved Rodimus' aft more times than he could count.

''Kup...? Is that really you...?'' the red Autobot asked hesitantly.

Something was screaming at the back of his processor that it couldn't be Kup, since Kup had died during the war.

Pale blue optics were fixed on him, what only filled Rodimus dread when he realised that those optics were empty, lacking the expression and presence.

Therefore, when the figure took a step forward, the young mech backed off, raising his servos as if they had been a shield.

''Stay away from me!'' Rodimus said in a cautionary tone.

He was walking backwards, intending to get as far from the Kup-resembling figure as possible and suddenly he hit something. Rodimus looked over his shoulder and found Drift who was trying to escape the other stranger whose optics were empty.

The two exchanged glances and they knew what to do.

Although the embodied phantoms were moving slowly, Rodimus and Drift broke for the first row of stalls right away. They started desperately winding through the spaces between the seats, heading for the luminous.

Odd as it may seem, when the two Autobots got closer, the luminousness turned out to be blinding reflections on the surface of a lake. The idea of wondering why a pond with crystal clear liquid was located in an abandoned chamber never crossed their processors.

They reached the lake and only then Drift turned to look at their pursuers. To his utter surprise, the two mecha were not far behind – actually, they were closing in really fast.

The two young Autobots looked at each other again, hoping that the other would come up with a plan... Rodimus turned around, seeking the way out but it turned out that the space beyond the pond wasn't hidden in shadows – there was no space beyond the pond, just a wall and a gigantic sculpture of a mech which was looking down at them.

He grabbed Drift by the wrist. Before his companion could complain, the red Autobot pulled him and, without a second thought, jumped into the pond.

Rodimus had never heard Drift screaming that loud.

He found it really hard to believe that this inviting crystal-clear liquid could have turned out to be acid.

The pain took him over, making it impossible to move. Rodimus was drowning, the caustic fluid pressing itself into his seams. His helm started spinning, while the remains of his plating were burning. He was _melting_. The never fading pain overcharged his receptors - it felt like being forged anew.

///

The numbness paralysing his frame was haltingly leaving his frame, allowing him to hear what was happening around him and even to move a little. It'd been a long time since he'd been in a deep recharge.

It felt too good.

He was a warrior, therefore lying in the berth and rest simply didn't suit him well.

And yet something was keeping him from getting up and showing that he was awake. He wasn't a eavedropping type and normally he would have already been sitting on the berth, allowing the medic to check all the relevant parameteres... but when he realised that the conversation going on just above his helm was concerning – at least partly - him, he decided not to interrupt.

''...and you... have no clue as to what might have happened to him?'' asked the voice, which must belong to Jazz.

''No, I do not'' came a grumpy answer and Optimus immediately recognised Ratchet.

''But there, actually, are clues...?'' Jazz continued, sounding a bit confused.

''Yes'' the medic became clearly irritated.

''And some of the Cons have clues, while we – the Autobots who knows him the best – don't?'' the saboteur kept pressing the issue, though his voice remained innocent.

''Yes, yes, yes'' Ratchet replied, not trying to hide his annoyance anymore. ''One Decepticon in particular'' mumbled the medic and the Prime heard something thudding, then Jazz chuckled quietly.

''Are you jealous, Ratchet?'' the saboteur asked, doing his best trying not to laugh.

''Wha-?'' the medic was obviously caught off-guard; it took him a while to regain his composure but finally he managed to come up with an answer. ''Jazz, I see you've recovered fully, then you can leave the medbay if you don't need my medical attention anymore.''

''Is that a nice way of saying 'frag off'?'' asked the saboteur and Optimus didn't need to see his faceplate to know that Jazz was smirking. ''Come on, Ratchet. It's been a long time since then but I will never forget what was your reaction when Pax announced...''

''Jazz, for Primus' sake...!'' the medic cut him off impatiently.

Since the conversation was going nowhere, Optimus decided to stop pretending – listening to Ratchet and Jazz falling out was neither useful nor entertaining. He onlined his optics and squinted when it turned out that the lights were no longer dimmed. Prime, having raised one servo to protect his optics, sat up. After a while he got used to the lighting and could look at his two companions.

''Rise and shine'' said Jazz, beaming at him. ''How are you feeling, boss-bot?''

Optimus had to blink a few times but finally the vision stopped being blurry. He felt fine - well-rested and peaceful. The only discomfort came from his slightly stiffened limbs but he was sure it would wear off.

''I'm fine'' he answered curtly and put both his pedes on the ground.

''We will see about that'' muttered Ratchet what earned him another smirk from Jazz. The medic pretended not to see the saboteur's smile and scanned Optimus, checking all the vital parameters. When he was done, he reluctantly stepped aside and, having rolled his optics pointedly, gestured to the door.

''He's waiting for you'' he said in a low voice.

Prime didn't need to ask who was waiting for him – it was too obvious and posing this question would only annoy Ratchet further (like annoying him any further was possible...). Fortunately, Jazz resisted the urge to make another snarky comment, therefore Optimus was leaving the medbay escourted by uncomfortable silence. He could _feel_ the medic watching him with worry...

''I just can't trust him fully after _millenia_ of waging a war against him'' said Ratchet all of a sudden, as if he'd felt compelled to explain himself.

Optimus paused on the doorstep and without looking at his friend replied: ''We have a ceasefire.''

It sounded more even than he'd intended but there was no time for rectification. When Megatron had been mentioned, all his doubts and worries came back and flooded his processor with sheer force. Optimus wanted answers and it seemed that he needed the warlord's help to solve this.

Thoughts were rushing in his processor, one triggering another, overwhelming him with questions. He realised that the situation had gone out of control – it meant that they had to hurry. He hoped that the remains of both armies would stop shooting hostile glances at each other and unite to save Cybertron from the mysterious danger. 

Fortunately, he didn't have much time to mull over his worries because Megatron was, indeed, waiting for him outside the medbay. Optimus swept aside the questions clouding his processor – he genuinelly didn't want to wonder how long the former gladiator had been standing here, waiting for him to wake up.

They didn't exchange glances, didn't nod to each other in acknowledgement – they just set off, heading toward the empty corridors of the Citadel. Neither of them felt encouraged enough to start the conversation, therefore they walked in silence until they reached the solitary passages of the north wing. It was then when Optimus started feeling uncertain – a shiver ran through his backstrut and his battle protocols activated. Although he hadn't detected any danger, he didn't shut them down – it felt safer. He hesitantly turned his helm and looked at Megatron who seemed calm and collected.

''Since you saved my life, it seems only fair that you should pose the first question'' he spoke up, his voice sounding far firmer than he would expect.

The warlord nodded and stopped in the middle of a chamber. Only then Optimus recognised the place – fear filled his spark, while he looked around carefully. Megatron's voice snapped him back to reality.

''Do you remember what happened here?''

He need no time to find an answer to this question. He simply shook his head.

''I mean... Something told me to come here. I came and... I don't remember'' he said, feeling useless and defeated. ''Pain, fear, dread... That's all I can recall'' he added but only made things worse – he couldn't bring back the important, helpful details and it triggered more self disbelief.

He sighed and raised his gaze. Megatron wasn't anything but a statue of patience – he stood there with Optimus, waiting for him to continue, not pressing the issue. To be honest, it surprised the Prime – the warlord he knew was impatient and vicious...

Suddenly something struck him.

''Something started shutting down my systems. It was the same thing which told me to come here'' he blurted out and for a moment he thought that he hadn't waken up yet because the thing he was seeing couldn't be real... Megatron smiled at him gently. It wasn't a smirk or a expression of predator's satisfaction – it was a _friendly_ smile. Sadly, it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.

''This is the only thing you're able to recall?'' the warlord asked and the other mech nodded. ''A virus then?''

''I don't think so. Ratchet would have found it'' Optimus replied without hesitation.

''If it's not a virus...'' Megatron said, his voice became grim just like his expression.

''You mean... slave coding...?'' asked the Autobot, his voice getting quieter with every word. ''But when...?''

''You tell me, _Prime_ '' the warlord cut him off and the title sounded like an insult.

Optimus cursed in thought – Megatron was a relentless warrior but he still hadn't gotten over the fact that he hadn't been elected a Prime, moreover he'd been accusing the Council and Optimus of 'killing' Orion Pax. Despite all his sympathy, Optimus could not stand this behaviour. He didn't know Orion – for Prime they were two completely different mecha and there was no reason for him to feel guilty. Megatron had fallen out with Pax, their ways had divided, therefore the warlord should blame nobody but himself for the lost of his beloved 'brother'.

In spite of the irritation boiling in him, Prime managed to remain composed. He gave Megatron a reproachful glance.

''Stop glaring at me. I'm going to ask Ratchet to run a thorough scan on all my systems. End of conversation'' he announced, his voice flat and lucking emotions.

Silence lingered. They stood like this for a long while and then Megatron smirked in the way that Optimus hated dearly. When he saw this nasty expression, the gentle smile seemed even more surreal.

''I guess, it _seems only fair that you should pose next question_ '' stated the warlord, his voice filled with venom.

It took all of Optimus' self-mastery to remain calm and not to turn on his hill to leave. He heaved a sigh and crossed his servos.

''How did you find me?''

To his surprise, Megatron seemed taken aback – his nasty smirk faded and his optic ridges lowered, covering his optics in a shadow of thoughtfulness. It took him a few kliks to make up a good answer but when he spoke up, his voice was low and even.

''We shared a bond. Orion and me.''

Optimus did not reply. He was watching Megatron carefully, waiting for him to continue the explanation, although he got a hunch that he wouldn't like it.

''You are not Orion'' the silver mech said. ''Nonetheless this frame used to belong to him and somehow the bond... survived. Although I closed my end of it.''

''You don't have to go into details'' assured him the Prime, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

''Oh, I'm afraid, I have to'' replied Megatron but the smirk didn't reappear, instead the warlord sighed heavily. ''It seems that since you had no idea about the bond, you didn't bother to close your end of it. It remained open.'' Only then the silver mech smirked. ''If I only knew, I would win this war... Do you realise how vulnerable you've been?''

''And do you realise how short-sighted you've been?'' Optimus rejoined.

''I do, believe me'' Megatron admitted, baring his fangs in another smile.

The red and blue mech sighed, feeling compelled to ruin the moment – he had to ask the inevitable question. He needed to voice his worries.

''I brought my fleet to Cybertron because of this bond, didn't I?''

Megatron just nodded and this simple gesture affected Optimus more than any words would. He felt sick when the realisation sank – the warlord who had been wishing him death for millenia had access to his very spark. The moment he thought entered his processor, he took a shaky step back. The silver mech seemed unmoved.

''Is it that bad?'' he asked, a bit teasingly.

For a short moment the Prime was about to spit out that yes, it was that bad – it was horrific. He respected Megatron as a warrior and a leader but it didn't mean that he would like to have the warlord connected to his very spark!

Optimus scowled at the other mech but said nothing. He turned around so that Megatron couldn't see his faceplate and asked in a quiet voice: ''Why? Why did you... reached out to me? You hate me. We are enemies.''

Now it was Megatron's turn to feel uncomfortable. He was glad that the Prime didn't see him when he lowered his gaze, not knowing how to say it. Silence lingered, making the warlord even more irritated by the situation. He had to answer. Despite the hard feelings, teasing – the whole complexity of their relation – they both wanted the same: to save Cybertron from the invasion, whoever was invading. The circumstances were forcing him to ignore all his regret, resentment and anger. He fought his own strong will.

''They attacked us when we entered Iacon airspace. Nemesis didn't stand a chance but we haven't known it yet... They got aboard the ship in a split second'' he said in a low voice.

''Have you seen them?'' asked Optimus, looking at the warlord over his shoulder.

''They were hiding in the shadows. The only thing I saw were their tentacles'' answered Megatron with disgust.

''Tentacles? That's...''

''That's not the right time'' the silver mech snapped, making Optimus fall silent. ''The point is... Why did I... need your help?'' He made a rather long pause. ''I was desperate. I was dying. You turned out to be the last resort.''

''And this... Orion's... my... end of the bond was open... you could... reach me'' the Prime stammered. Cold shiver ran down his back strut. He was struggling to calm himself, when suddenly Megatron's voice echoed in the chamber again.

''How did it feel?''

Optimus turned to look at the warlord. There was no teasing the silver mech's voice, his faceplate remained neutral as well.

''Horrible'' the Prime mumbled. ''Just like you have said – desperation, death...'' he almost whispered. Silence followed.

Megatron didn't say anything to that, he was looking the other mech and a thoughtful expression appeared on his faceplate. Optimus kept his gaze fixed on the floor – he felt unwell, this whole conversation, though it was necessery, made him sick. They still knew nothing about the mystery invader – they were unable to act. They couldn't even reinforce the Citadel properly because they had no idea what to expect. The Prime heaved a sigh – he felt powerless again.

''There isn't much we can do now...'' he pointed out quietly, the feeling of defeating overtaking him once again.

''We can prepare'' sugested Megatron, nonchalantly drawing his sword and examining the blade.

''Prepare for what?'' asked Optimus, putting his servos on his hips.

''A confrontation. It will occur eventually'' the warlord assured him.

''They will crash us. We stand no chance just like the Nemesis'' the Prime dissented, titling his helm. Megatron shot a glance at him and swung his cannon arm, then looked the red and blue mech again.

''That's why we should prepare. If we prepare, they won't crush us'' he stated slowly as if he had been explaining something to a sparkling. Optimus pretended that he hadn't noticed – Megatron only smirked. 

''Come at me'' he said, taking a fighting stance and the Prime crooked a smile.

''Really? A sparring?'' he asked, crossing his servos.

''Standing and thinking about how vulnerable we are will do you no good, Optimus'' stated the warlord, the smirk never leaving his features.

The Prime didn't reply – he seemed taken aback by the statement. He eyed Megatron from helm to pede and shook his helm with a smile.

''Remember: you asked for it. Literally.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that there would be more MegOP scenes with the progress of the story :) Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!


	8. Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You for commenting and leaving Kudos - it means a lot and it's a great motivation!  
> I need to warn You - I've never discribed a fight before, so sorry if it's quite pathetic... Nonetheless... Hope You'll enjoy this one :D

A loud clunk announced to the residents of the Citadel that something heavy – presumably a respected Autobot leader and Matrix-bearer – had been thrown and hit the ground somewhere in the north wing. A low chuckle – not as adible as the previous noise – followed.

''Tell me, Optimus, how long has it been since you sparred?'' asked Megatron, looking down at the Prime.

The red and blue mech didn't answer. He looked at his opponent who was still smirking and perhaps expecting him to simply stand up and contiunue fighting... Optimus assumed it was worth a try, thefore he suddenly put his full weight on his servos, while one of his pedes slid, almost reaching Megatron but the warlord had seen it coming and sprang back before the Prime managed to trip him up. There wasn't much time for the silver mech to take new stance and think his next move over because Optimus had been already standing, moreover he was closing in, both his swords drawn and ready to strike.

Megatron allowed the Prime to back him into a corner, however the Autobot leader noticed that something was wrong and stopped all of a sudden in the middle of the chamber, apparently right where the warlord wanted him to be.

The Decepticon didn't waste any time. Immediately, he gracefully rushed towards Optimus, swang his blaze underservo but it turned out that the other mech was waiting for this move. When Megatron was within range, the red and blue mech blocked him and shifted smoothly so that he appeared right behind the former gladiator. However the warlord knew him to well and turned around just in time to stop the plummeting twin swords.

There was a long pause and it seemed a perfect moment for the two leaders to realise that they had an audience. Ravage was sitting on the doorstep, watching them with interest,his helm titled to the side and optics narrowed.

Megatron truned his attention back to the mech who was pressing all his weight against the warlord's blaze. It might be a problem for someone else but not for the Decepticon leader – he was strong enough and from where he stood Optimus wasn't a heavy mech. Megatron gathered his strength and adjusted his stance so that he bore the pressure with no effort.

The warlord allowed a smirk to make its way onto his faceplate. He'd never presumed that there would come a day when he was trying to ease Prime's mind; furthermore, he'd never presumed that it would feel so good when he achieved it... He hated Optimus with a passion – the Prime was a pathetic creation of the High Council, an artificial replacement for Orion Pax... Nonetheless, during the never-ending conflict Megatron involuntarily learnt to respect the Autobot leader as a skilled warrior and strategist.

This time something had changed and the Decepticon couldn't find a satisfying explanation – was it the restored bond or the ceasefire...? He had been perceiving Optimus in a new way.

It still felt wrong to compare the Prime and Orion but the similarities between the two were becoming more and more visible. Megatron never forgot his animosity towards the mech, nevertheless he found it pleasant to spend time with the Prime who was not only a fine fighter but also an intelligent person. And while the warlord kept repeating in thought that Optimus was nothing like Orion, he admitted that it felt good to finally become allies.

On the other servo, after he'd found Optimus in the chamber, where they were sparring now, after he'd _used_ the bond, he'd sworn that he would never fraternise with the Prime. He felt guilty for defiling the remains of his and Orion's intimacy.

But since the bond had been restored, the numerous diffrences between the two mecha started becoming blurry and Megatron felt that the connection between their spraks was bliding him in a way. It was the moment he realised it, when anger started boiling in him, forcing him to refuse and defy the emotions – after all, he and Optimus had been enemies for millenia.

Megatron was torn.

There were so many little things that kept reminding him of Pax when he looked at the Prime – little gestures, some expressions. During the Great War he'd managed to ignore all this, though his spark had ached each time when he'd noticed the shadow of his beloved, so why couldn't he continue to resist? Once again, he decided to charge it off to the restored bond – he thought that because of it, he could not bear seeing Optimus all war-weary and powerless. It reminded him of the dark moments when Orion's inexhaustible optimism had been exhausted and _Megatrnous_ had been doing his best to lift Pax's spirits.

During their conversation, a thought had entered the warlord's processor. He knew Optimus quite well – they fought each other for thousands of years – therefore why should not try to improve Prime's mood? It sounded like a challenge and the former gladiator felt more than happy to take it.

Finally they parted and started circling each other, watching the other carefully in order to choose the right moment to strike.

In the dawn of the war, Megatron had – despite himself - admitted that the Prime was a talented warrior. From then on, the Decepticon leader had been admitting many things and this time was no exception. The bitter thought had crossed his mind many times before, nonetheless he admitted it again: Optimus was a beautiful mechanism – designed with care and diligence. His frame was a work of art – elegant and ravishing, the armour must have been forged by a skilled smith – it looked exquisitive. Megatron admired the way the Prime seemed so delicate and was a tough opponent.

They clashed again but this time the silver mech played dirty. Megatron blocked Optimus once more – just like a few kliks ago – but when the red and blue mech tried to pull away, he caught him by the wrist and swayed Prime's other servo using his cannon arm. This one deft movement was enough to force the Autobot leader to stretch his whole frame.

Megatron watched Optimus' muscle cables quiver from the effort. He didn't need to raise his gaze to know the insecureness in the other's optics – he felt it through the bond. He negligently sent a warm pluse through the connection, still watching the elegant frame bracing. Something at the back of his processor whispered that he could do everything now, that his greatest enemy – the one who took Orion away from him – was at his mercy. It felt so tempting...

Suddenly a something cold pierced through his spark. Megatron looked up and met Optimus' optics. The menacing gaze was fixed on him, pure rage soaking through them. The warlord was taken aback, unable to come up with a proper reaction. What had just happened? The memory of the savagery which had overtaken him when they'd left the Autobot's shuttle emerged from his data bank. The thought that followed made him freeze - _it_ had gotten into him _again_.

He was shocked, therefore he barely noticed that Optimus lost his temper - or maybe he felt so insecure that his battle protocols had engaged? - and pulled away with all might. The Prime scowled at him, taking a fighting stance.

''What was that?'' he asked in a low, distrustful voice.

Megatron shook his helm slightly and when he was about to say something, loud applaude filled the chamber.

The two leaders looked towards the door, where Ravage had been sitting. It turned out that the minicon wasn't alone anymore – Decepticons and Autobots were standing in the entrance and they had been obviously observing the two mecha sparring.

The Prime and the warolord exchanged glances and then Optimus said quietly: ''There's another door.''

Megatron couldn't much more than nod and follow the red and blue mech. They left the audience behind, walking away in silence. It turned out there was another door indeed – it was hidden on the far wall of the chamber.

The moment they both made it to a dark corridor, Optimus spun round to face Megatron – the lighting was poor, nonetheless the Decepticon leader could see that one of Prime's swords was still present and ready to strike...

''Optimus...'' Megatron adressed him, not without hesitation, raising his servos to show that he meant no harm.

''What was that?'' the Autobot repeated his question, his tone a mixture of dread and fury.

''I'm sorry'' the other mech said simply. ''Something has gotten into me...''

'' _Something_? You mean 'lust', 'sadism'?'' Optimus demanded.

''I'm not an animal, Prime!'' the silver mech snarled, making the statement sound misplaced.

''Then what was that?'' asked the Autobot leader again, emphasising the last word.

There was a long pause before the Decepticon spoke. It took all of Megatron's self-control to regain his composure after his short lashing out. He looked up at the mech standing before him, he saw the hurt in his optics and heaved a sigh.

''Please, take your battlemask off'' he asked just to say something, since the lingering silence wasn't making this conversation any easier.

To his very surprise, his words were followed by a quiet woosh and when he raised his gaze to look at the Autobot again, the mask was gone. There was another hiss, when Optimus sheathed his sword. Megatron clenched his fists, finding it impossible to explain his behaviour. Something had just gotten into him – like he said...

''If I'd wanted to _hurt_ you, I'd have done it'' he stated, his voice barely audiable.

There was no reaction from the Prime. He stood there, watching the other mech closely, wondering if it was Megatron's pride that forbade him from telling the Prime what had happened.

''Optimus'' the warlord spoke up again. ''I mean you no harm. We have a ceasefire.''

''Is the ceasefire the only reason...?'' the blue and red mech questioned hesitantly.

Another moment of silence passed, they were still looking at each other, neither of them dare to say anything. The shadows surrounding them seemed to swathe them in itself, giving them the chance to forget about the rest of the world – the Autobots and Decepticons, the mysterious invader, the desolate homeworld...

All of a sudden, Megatron reached out slowly and, when Optimus didn't do anything to stop him or put more distance between them, embraced him. Initially the Prime seemed unsure – he was debating with himself, avoiding the warlord's optics. The silver mech pulled him closer so that their frames came into contact. Megatron rose his right servo slowly and gently caught at the back of Optimus' helm, then pushed it so that the Prime's cheek laid on his shoulder guard, while his audio receptor was near the warlord's intake. The red and blue mech obeyed every unspoken command. He still didn't trust the former gladiator fully after what had happened but he forced his frame to cooperate, fighting his own doubts.

''You are my brother'' Megatron whispered right into Optimus' receptor and pulled him in a close embrace.

Optimus' optics widened, the words echoing in his processor. _Brother_. No one had ever called him that – he knew that on the organic planet 'Earth' it was a term used when it came to describing a family, but there was no such thing like 'family' on Cybertron – no brothers, no sisters, no mothers or fathers. Sparks used to emerge from the Well, they would be placed in little frames... They used to be called sparklings... They would be assigned to their mentors who would teach them their craft... There was no such thing like 'family' on Cybertron and yet Megatron called him his brother.

The Prime felt himself relaxing against the spiky armour. He had never been so close with anyone – he always kept his emotions in check, even around his 'old friends', and now he was allowing his enemy to hug him.

That was unbelievable. That was unacceptable. And yet it felt so good.

///

Meanwhile, a series of loud thuds announced to the residents of the Citadel that some tensions hadn't been eased yet. When Prowl entered the chamber, from where the noise had been coming, he found Springer sprawled on the ground, swearing aloud and Arcee helping him to stand up, not far from them stood Skywarp and Thundercracker – the Praxian assumed, going by the tone, that the other was trying to talk some sense into the first flier. It looked like the problem – whatever it'd been – had been solved already and there was no need for the Autobot officer to intervene. Unfortunately, the impressions tend to be misleading.

When Springer finally managed to stand up and not to stagger, he scowled at the two seekers and pointed at Skywarp.

''You...'' the Wrecker hissed, taking a shaky step forward.

''What? You ain't got enough?'' the Decepticon repsonded immediately, pushing Thundercracker away.

''Skywarp, for Primus' sake, stop!'' the other flier commanded, obviously irritated.

''Deceptiscum!'' yelled Springer provocatively what earned him a forceful prod from Arcee.

''Shut up, you're not helping'' she snapped, struggling to sound patient, but when the green mech kept resisting and calling Skywarp names, while she was trying to drag him away from the cross Decepticon, she lost her temper and smacked him. Apparently, it only made things worse – the Wrecker shoved the femme away and rushed toward the flier.

When the two were about to start pummeling each other once more, Prowl materialised between them, his doorwings raised and visor glinting. For a moment everyone present froze – the two arguing mecha, the two who had been trying to call them to order and the rest who were watching the scene with utter interest, they all goggled the Praxian.

Skywarp stared at Prowl and without hesitation came up to him, drastically reducing the distance between them. The Autobot remained impassive – there was no hint of any emotion in his voice when he spoke up.

''What is it all about?''

''Get outta my way, Autobot'' snarled Skywarp, raising his servo to push Prowl away.

''That's how you want to play it...'' the Praxian sighed. He was annoyed – he had so many far more pressing issues to deal with and he had to handle some petty squables.

''Back off, Skywarp'' he commanded, his voice flat and intransigent.

''Who are you to order me around?'' hissed the flier, narrowing his optics. The sound of his weaponry engaging filled the chamber.

''Skywarp, you fool, we have a cease fire!'' Thundercracker tried to talk some sense into the other seeker once again but failed miserably.

''Oh, shut up, 'cracker! You're the only one of us who believes in the cease fire'' snapped the flier and the way he said the last words had made them sound like an insult. ''Move, Autobot, or you will _be moved_ '' he threatened, his optics still fixed on Prowl.

When the mech refused to get out of Skywarp's way by standing there and watching the seeker steadily, the flier finally aimed at the Praxian, which meant – given that there was nearly _no_ space between them – that the rocket almost scratched the yellow visor.

''Prowl, do you always have to pry into other's bussiness?'' barked Springer but the mech in question seemed not to hear him.

''Move, Autobot'' repeated the seeker through gritted denta. ''I'm going to blow your helm...''

''It's between you and me, Skywarp...'' Springer cut in. ''So stop aiming at Prowler and...''

''Springer, shut up and back off. I'm not going to repeat myself'' said the Praxian, his voice flat. He didn't look at the Wrecker, his optics hidden behind the visor where still fixed on the flier.

''Lower your weapon, Skywarp'' Prowl ordered but he didn't show his surprise when the seeker stopped aiming at him – not only his attitude made him remain impassive but also the ominous smirk which appeared on Skywarp's faceplate.

''Fine, I won't attack an endangered species'' announced the Decepticon.

It was only a slight twitch of doorwings but it was enough for Arcee to sense that something was wrong. She'd spent quite a while with Prowl during the Great War and they had learnt to know each other rather well, therefore, she knew that somehow the seeker managed to get to the 'cold and calculating' mech.

Skywarp did backed off but he also started cicrling around the Autobot officer who remained where he had stood. 

''I admit, I haven't seen a Praxian since...'' the Decepticon made a pause, pretending that he was wondering exactly how long had it been since he'd came across a Praxian. ''I can't remember when was the last time I saw Praxus as something more than a pile of debris... Do you recall when it was _slaughtered_?''

It was the moment when Prowl's doorwings dropped. Nobody dared to move or to speak up – even the Decepticons had heard about the Praxian and the way he used to behave. Therefore seeing him expressing any emotion was an unique opportunity.

This short while was extending – it seemed that this moemnt would never end. Arcee watched her comrade and wondered. Her processor was occupied with the questions which had entered the minds of every mech present – 'How has Skywarp managed to get to Prowl?', 'Was Prowl mourning Praxus?', 'Does he miss Praxus?'

The seeker kept his optics on the Autobot officer, waiting for the end result of his provocation. He was so proud of himself – it seemed he had broken the 'cold and calculating' mech. The nasty smirk was glued to his faceplate and – though it seemed impossible – kept widening, when the Praxian remained silent.

Finally, Prowl spoke out.

''According to my data bank, Praxus was destroyed in parallel with the fall of Rodion. I could give you the exact date but, I believe, it won't be necessary.''

It shouldn't have surprised anyone but the mecha gathered in the chamber had expected something more – something _less_ Prowl-ish. The majority of the assembled felt disgruntled – they'd been counting on a break down, something spectacular, something that may one day become a great story to tell. Therefore, when it turned out that nothing worth-watching was about to happen, they got back to their previous occupactions and the chamber soon filled with varied noises of some mecha talking, laughing, arguing etc.

Arcee was still watching Springer, Skywarp and Prowl who stood between the two. She had never considered the Praxian a close friend but they made a close-knit team and – despite her sharing the common dislike of this mech's attitude – she was worried about him. They were comrades after all, she knew him quite well – it wasn't like with Tailgate or Cliffjumper but she had learnt to liaise with him and she had to admit that sometimes it'd felt good to have someone like Prowl at her side. This sentiment was the cause of her concern – it was obvious that Prowl hadn't gotten over the fall of his home city and Arcee knew it only too well - hiding this kind of sorrow would eventually do for him. Therefore she walked closer so that she could head him off when he'd finish lecturing Springer and Skywarp. She needed to talk to him - _he_ needed this talk.

''...then I restore the Citadel's dungeon and, I presume, you two know what happens next. This is the first and the last warning'' the officer announced and turn on his hill to leave, ignoring the curses muttered by the Wrecker and seeker.

''Prowl...?'' the femme caught him by the servo, keeping him in place. ''I thought that maybe you'd like to talk to someoone? You know, about Praxus...'' she added, her words audiable only for the Praxian.

His faceplate remained impassive but she knew that her action made him feel puzzled. Even trough the visor Arcee could see Prowl frowning slightly. He looked down at her, his lip plates formed a thin line before he replied.

''I'm fine.''

With this being said, he extricated himself from the situation but for Arcee the short sentence spoke volumes. She tried to catch Prowl again but, unfortunatelly, a big group of mecha had just entered the chamber and – another thing that she knew about the Praxian – he was quite good at dissapearing in a crowd. When the femme finally managed to spot him, he had just reached Optimus Megatron who showed up at the entrance. Arcee sighed frustrated and decided to keep an optic on Prowl.

///

The chamber, which had become a place of social gathering, was bustling with life when they walked in, however Megatron didn't notice it. His mind was still occupied by the unimagined peace which was flooding him steadily, chasing all his worries away. He could not recall the last time he had felt it. He _sensed_ that Optimus felt it too – their spraks were beating in unison.

The warlord was snapped back to reality by the Praxian – Prime's strategist who appeared all of a sudden before them. The Autobot leader nodded to him in acknoledgement and then the mech fell into step with the two.

''Prime, during your absence, we've been discussing our next move'' said Prowl and the statement made Megatron look at him with raised optic ridges.

'' _We_?'' the warlord questioned. They'd established the cease fire but nearly no one seemed to fully understand what that meant, therefore Megatron would bet that 'we' did not indclude any of his Decepticons, especially officers.

''We have a chain of command'' replied Prowl, sounding a bit resentful. ''You weren't around, so we had to assemble the general staff in order to discuss the strategy which would be presented to you later on. Soundwave, Starscream, Ultra Magnus and I were present'' the Praxian explained plainly.

Megatron nodded in reply. He didn't like the fact that Starscream had gone to the meeting and taken part in devising a strategy but what's done can't be undone and it seemed he had to reconcile himself to the fact that Starscream was _still_ his second in command.

''I suppose you have some suggestions, Prowl?'' asked Optimus, looking down at his officer.

Megatron hadn't seen a Praxian for a long time – their home city had been destroyed a long time ago and the population was said to be decimated, the few survivors had left Cybertron – they were mostly neutrals. And yet the warlord could watch this mech - committed to the Autobot cause. What had caught Megatron's optic was the distinctive way of expressing emotion which was similiar to seeker's behaviour but still a bit different – namely the movement of the doorwings. 

When the Prime adressed his strategist, the Praxian's doorwings lifted up showing that he was glad about being asked about the suggestions and he answered right away.

''We reconsidered the previous ideas and assembled a scouting party, intending to send it to the armoury. We thought that Megatron should lead the exploration, I would go with the party as well. Ironhide, Wheeljack and two Decepticons: Thundercracker and Onslaught volunteered.''

''Only one scouting party?''

''We reached the conclusion that improving our ordnance is the priority.''

''And what about the Citadel's defence systems?'' the Prime continued.

''Soundwave is still working on it. Jazz has recovered fully and is currently helping Soundwave'' the strategist reported.

''Thank you, Prowl'' said Optimus, nodding. ''Megatron, I believe, you are satisfied with the cooperation of our forces?'' it was more of a statement than a question actually.

''Indeed, I am. Is the scouting party ready?'' the warlord asked, looking at the Praxian. It seemed the cease fire was working but it was still possible that the Autobot would ignore him. But he didn't.

''We are ready to set off in no time'' Prowl replied.

''Good. Gather the men and wait for me in main hall...'' Megatron trailed off, making Optimus smile a little.

''Prowl'' the Praxian introduced himself evenly. The warlord nodded and Prime's smile only widened.

''As I said, gather the men and wait for me, _Prowl_ '' Megatron said, memorising the designation; when the mech left, he gave Optimus a questioning look.

''It's nice to see that you are trying to cooperate'' the Prime replied, still smiling.

''Then it would be nice to see you visiting the medbay.''

''That sounded at least ambigously'' the red and blue mech muttered, letting out a quiet chuckle.

Their ways diveded again but this time far less drastically and figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story slows down a little but don't worry ;) Chapter 10 or 11 will be really freaky xD  
> Please, please, tell me what You think! Comments keep me going!


	9. Revelations

The Citadel was empty.

The ruinous halls, the tumbledown chambers, the dilapidated corridors... were empty.

No turbofoxes, no Insecticons, no Scavengers... nothing was hinding in the shadows.

The threat, because of which the united forces were stuck in one wing of the fortress, afraid to stray too far, was more complex – it seemed like a disease, it could spread quickly through the mecha, unnoticed until it struck. It was the kind of threat that they hadn't faced before – or hadn't faced for a long time. They'd gotten used to fighting each other in hand-to-hand combat and creating new weapons of mass destruction. Unfortunately, this opponent – their mysterious enemy – turned out to be different. It wasn't an arms race anymore – it was a battle of minds. The situation had been forcing them to be sly and think fifty moves ahead but it seemed they'd forgotten how to wage such war. Both Autobots and Decepticons were good at formulating strategies, ordering the troops on a battlefield but those abilities were useless now. They needed the mecha who thought big.

Sadly, Shockwave wasn't around.

They needed mecha who could analyse and evaluate information – someone able to calculate the risk, come up with multiple scenarios and solutions. Megatron had never underestimated Soundwave and he'd heard about the 'cold and calculating' Prowl, but he was still of the opinion that Shockwave was the best of the schemers with his _logic_.

Optimus would probably stand up for his strategist's abilities if he knew that Megatron doubted them. Nonetheless, the warlord knew otherwise – though pragmatic the Praxian may be, he was still an Autobot which meant that he was unable to fully block out his emotions and sentiments. 

Although the Decepticon leader rarely got his facts wrong, the more time he spent with Prowl, the more the thought that he underestimated the mech pestered.

The Praxian was confident – he strolled down the main hall, heading to the south wings. He hadn't shown any sign of fear when they'd entered dark chambers and unexplored corridors. He knew the Citadel well – apparently, he'd memorised all the schematics. Moreover, it seemed that not only Megatron reached the conclusion that the threat was something more than scavengers hiding in the shadows.

''I guess you've heard that I hate Decepticons'' stated Prowl when they entered the corridor leading to the armoury.

''Interesting way to start a conversation'' replied the warlord, looking down at the mech.

''I figured out that honesty would work.''

Megatron only raised one optical rigde.

''Trying to fool you is a grave mistake, however some mecha keep making it. Well, not everyone has the ability to learn from their mistakes...'' the Praxian continued.

''You mean Starscream?'' Megatron easily guessed, although he had no idea where this conversation was going.

''Indeed. But he's not the only one who tried to outwit you and failed miserably.''

''I didn't know you are so talkative'' the warlord said, watching the Autobot carefully. What was the Praxian up to? Megatron doubted that the strategist wanted to get to know him better. He was an Autobot but he wasn't that stupid...

''Because I'm not. I'm slowly getting to the point, directing your attention to a certain topic'' replied Prowl as they reached the door of the armoury. They stood side by side, watching Ironhide and Onslaught making their way through the thick metal.

''You are trying to make me let my guard down, I assume?'' asked Megatron in a low voice so that only the Praxian could hear him.

''Yes, I'd dare say that I'm trying to catch you out'' answered Prowl, his voice still flat.

''Back to the honesty, I see'' stated the warlord, narrowing his optics. ''What about the ceasefire? Why don't you, for the sake of it, ask me a direct question? Aren't direct questions a sign of honesty?'' he continued, counting on the Praxian to let his guard down.

''Should I feel offeneded by the fact that you're trying to outwit me while I declared that I will not try such a thing?'' questioned Prowl, turning his helm to look at Megatron who allowed a smirk to creep onto his lip plates. This conversation was becoming more and more interesting.

''And aren't you trying to outwit me by telling this?'' the warlord replied, starting to enjoy this little game.

The Praxian heaved a sigh, his doorwings flickered slightly.

''As I said, only honesty works.''

''I suppose this is the time you told me what bothers you so much, Prowl'' the warlord pressed, still smirking. Clearly, he'd succeeded because the Praxian's doorwings twitched at the sound of his own name.

''I... I've been wondering what brought you to Cybertron'' he stated and, before Megatron could make any comment, added: ''It was Shockwave, wasn't it? He'd stayed here when the war had escalated. You came because Shockwave had his lab here in Iacon.''

''I will not say that I've underestimated you because it wasn't that hard to find out why we came back to Cybertron since some Autobots had stayed behind as well'' replied the warlord dryly.

''As far as I'm concerned Shockwave'd taken care of them...'' Prowl muttered, glaring from behind his visor. ''The only question I have is: where's Shockwave now?''

''You are very investigative... or.. shall I say... intrusive?'' asked Megatron, his voice becoming lower with every word. He slowly moved closer to the Praxian and Prowl – with his perceptiveness – didn't have the chance to register when exactly the distance between them had been reduced to inches.

The Autobot lifted his helm, looking the Decepticon straight in the optic. Megatron was impressed – the mech must be intimidated but his faceplate remained blank, only his doorwings dropped a little and this small movement gave the game away.

''Someone has to be'' the Praxian stattered out. ''The rest has somehow overlooked the reason of _your_ arrival.''

''Maybe it's irrelevant?'' Megatron suggested, almost pinning Prowl down to the wall. The shadow of his large frame covered the Praxian, cornering him.

''Sentinel Prime used to say that the Decepticon movement was 'irrelevant' and where is he now?'' the Autobot, to Megatron's utter surprise, found the courage to continue the dialogue.

The warlord stared at the mech for a long while and neither of them spoke. The doubt was steadily making it's way towards Prowl's spark, telling him in a whisper that it had been a terrible idea to set up this mission so that he could interrogate Megatron. The former gladiator towered over him, the dangerous, rough features curdling the Autobot's energon. He couldn't recall when was the last time he felt so frightened... The crimson optics were fixed on him, burning a whole in his visor, melting his processor.

Suddenly, the warlord's lip plates twitched in a smirk, he looked down at the Praxian, narrowing his optics.

''I like you, Prowl. You don't cower'' Megatron said, stepping away. With that being said, he turned on his hill and went toward the other mecha who were still prising the door.

The Praxian watched him go, feeling the curdled energon in his veins flowing anew. He took his time to regain his composure and let his frame relax. Only then he dared walk closer to the warlord who had just aimed his cannon at the lock.

Wheeljack was making some comments, claiming that they should have start with this 'method' but no one listened to him as the famed weapon charged up and Megatron fired. When the dust fell, the Decepticon leader scowled – the door were intact. Ironhide hardly managed to hold back a chuckle – what made him laugh wasn't only the fact that he'd told them that this wouldn't work, it was the fact that 'mighty Megatron' failed...

The Praxian walked closer to the door and watched them carefully, analysing every curve of the sofisticated ornaments and examining the lock. He hoped that his specialised protocols and experience would outmanoeuvre the pre-War military engineering.

''Do you see anything?'' Megatron's voice sounded closer than Prowl would like it to.

''Not really...'' muttered the Autobot, fighting the urge to look and check how close the warlord stood.

''Mission failed....?'' Thundercracker suggested in a low voice but Wheeljack heard him nonethelss.

''There's a will, there's a way. Move over, Prowler...''

''Wheeljack, we've already figured out that brute force isn't the key'' said Prowl, turning on his heel so that the Wrecker had to stop short. They were glaring at each other for a long while until Ironhide decided to speak up.

''What about Ultra Magnus or Arcee? Haven't they served in the Citadel?''

The Praxian broke the eye-contact with Wheeljack and looked at the red Autobot, already shaking his helm.

''Magnus was a Council Guardian before the War and Arcee... she was a scout – she'd never been stationed in the Citadel for a long time and it's impossible for her to have the access code...''

''Just say: 'no' '' Wheeljack cut him off. Prowl gave him a reproachful look and then turned to face Megatron.

''There is not much we can do now. I know the parameters of this lock so I'm able to check all the possible passphrases but, obviously, it will take long...''

Once again, the warlord wished Shockwave was there... he would come up with an unthinkable and _logical_ solution...

Megatron nodded curtly in reply and took a step forward so that he could study the lock up close. Indeed, there wasn't much they could do – the machanism was old, nonetheless it withstood the power of his cannon. There was no alternative entrance – just before the scouting party had set off, Prowl reported that they'd mapped south wing with the help of Soundwave's minicons and the armoury had turned out to be unimpaired. It was the most well-preserved part of the fortress. And they were trying to gain entry to it.

The Decepticon leader wasn't used to retreating, for him withdrawal was against the grain... Nevertheless, he resigned himself to the fact that he should order the scouting party to return to the east wing. Mission failed.

When he was about to gave the order, a loud thud echoed across the corridor. They all froze and then exchanged glances. Wheeljack's battle mask slid shut and the rest followed up, engaging their weapons. The silence lingered while they looked around, trying to spot the source of the noise.

Suddenly Prowl raised his right servo, which wasn't transformed into a gun, and gestured to Megatron to follow him. The Praxian got close to one of the huge hinges and Megatron followed him. The warlord narrowed his optics, trying to understand what had caught Prowl's attention and the answer came to him when he stopped beside the mech. There was a microscopic gap between the door and the jamb and, though they couldn't see anything through it, they could hear something.

''Venting?'' asked Megatron quietly.

''I guess so. Someone's in there'' replied Prowl, nodding.

''Someone has been locked in the armoury...?'' questioned the warlord, raising one optical ridge to express his scepticisim.

''Or someone has locked themselves'' the Praxian suggested.

Megatron stepped away from the door jamb, feeling Prowl's optics fixed on him. He looked over his shoulder and asked in a low voice: ''They can't get out?''

''The lock can be opened only from here, the mechanism is hidden inside the door. According to our reconaissance, there's no alterative entrace'' the Autobot answered without hesitation.

''Good. We retreat'' Megatron ordered and almost intanstly Wheeljack objected. The warlord, however, remained calm and didn't bother to reprimand the Wrecker. Without saying a word, he set off to the east wing.

''Prowl, assemble the general staff. We need to discuss this... matter'' he ordered and his voice echoed through the corridor.

''You allow a Decepticon to order you around, Prowler?'' muttered Wheeljack, falling in step with the Praxian who followed Megatron straightaway.

''I do if the orders are reasonable.''

///

Only a few mecha believed in the ceasefire and were ready to give up their pride and prejudice. Megatron wasn't one of them – he felt ambivalent. The Autobots were still hostile, so why should he and his soldiers humour? On the other servo, he enjoyed being on the same side with Optimus after all this what had happened between them recently. For the sake of Optimus, he could ignore the cunning and nastiness.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the obstacle which appeared on the horizon as soon as he entered the main hall.

''Medic'' he greeted the Autobot who was waiting for him in the shadow of a column. ''How is Optimus?''

''Oh, you tell me'' replied Ratchet, not even trying to hide the venom in his voice. ''You've grown close together, after all.''

It took all of Megatron's self-control not to glare the medic. He remained silent for a long while, giving the scouting party time to pass by and only nodded to Prowl to let him know that he'll be in the headquarters in a moment. Then he turned his helm to look down at Ratchet.

''Optimus and I are cooperating, yes. We're setting an example for the troops'' he said, keeping calm.

''You do set an example'' the medic snapped. Obviously, he did not intend to resolve this dispute in a polite way, however Megatron wanted to prevent him from making a scene. The silver mech frowned slightly and was about to ask Ratchet to explain what the matter was. Unfortunately, he was cut off.

''Stop toying with Optimus'' the medic hissed through gritted denta.

''Excuse me?'' said the warlord, offence clear in his voice.

''You heard me, Megatron, stop it. He's infatuated with you and...''

''We've already had this conversation'' the Decepticon interrupted harshly.

This time it was Ratchet's turn to furrow, seeing his confusion, the warlord continued dryly: ''You remprimanded me this way when I met Orion.''

''You... No! No, we haven't had this conversation and you know it!'' exclaimed the medic, raising both his servos to express his irritation. ''This is different! Back then... You were just a stupid revolutionary, a brute! While Orion was... Never mind.'' He shook his helm and then looked up to meet Megatron's optics. ''This is different. You're toying with him... Even if your intentions are good, it's... It's you, Megatron! You will hurt him, I know it!''

''What have I done wrong so far?'' the former gladiator growled in response, his optics blazing. ''I provided you with shelter. I saved him. I offered him something that you were never able to give him!''

''Name it!'' Ratchet shouted, the anger overtaking him as well.

''Comfort!'' hissed the silver mech, taking a step towards the medic, his claws flexing in a threatening way and his fangs bared.

''You can't offer him comfort after years of trying to rip his spark out!''

They fell silent for a short while, staring at each other hatefully. Megatron snarled and, having caught Ratchet at the chin, lifted the other mech's helm so that he had to look the warlord straight in the optic. The Autobot struggled but the Decepticon was holding him firmly.

The former gladiator bowed his helm so that they face plates almost touched and whispered: ''You don't know me. Moreover, you don't know Optimus.''

The silver mech was emphasisng each word it the last sentence, making it sound like a accusation. The Autobot's sprak ached. The venom in those words seeped through Ratchet's audioreceptors, deafening him and slowly reaching his spark. It hurt. Megatron let go of his helm and stepped back, still keeping the optic contact. The medic backed away, looking at the Decepticon in horror. The warlord's face plate remained impassive – he didn't show any sign of triumph or anger. He gave Ratchet a curt nod and left without saying a word.

///

When the warlord reached the headquarters, the officers were already their, gathered around the holotable, presumably waiting for him. Megatron didn't bother to explain himself – there was no need for such niceties. He placed himself between Optimus and Soundwave but when all optics in the room were still fixed on him, he gestured for them to continue. He _was_ upset and suddenly a warm wave washed over his spark – he didn't need to look to his right to know what was that. He smiled a little but it was enough of a 'thank you' for the Prime.

''Prowl has already filled us in on the situation'' said a mech whose frame was the same model as Optimus'. Megatron recognised him after a while – Ultra Magnus – he had proved himself as a tough opponent during the war...

''Soundwave says that they have been there, at the latest, since the attack on the Nemesis. He would have noticed if someone had entered the Citadel'' Prowl continued the report he'd been giving before Megatron's arrival. ''This creature hiding in the armoury has been there for a long time, so we assume that it's weak. It's presumably starving. That's why it made the noise – it must have heard us when we tried to gain entrance to the chamber. It made the effort to tell us that it's there...''

''And what if it's not starving? Maybe it's trying to trick us and we're just falling for it'' Starscream jumped in. ''It wants to get out of there, obviously, but what's then?''

''At the moment we are unable to open the lock'' Soundwave interrupted, using a recording of Prowl's statement what clearly made the Praxian uncomfortable.

''It's trapped in there'' said Megatron, already seeing that the discussion is leading nowhere. ''It's at our mercy.''

''How do we know that it won't attack us during the night cycle?'' Starscream demanded, his servos crossed over his chest plate.

''This door cannot be open from the inside'' stated Prowl, although he didn't like to repeat himself. ''We have some time to think it through.''

''We should go there in the morning'' suggested Ultra Magnus. ''We're safe for now, it can wait.'' 

''Ultra Magnus is right'' said Optimus and Megatron nodded. Starscream shrugged and left the chamber. The Autobots exchanged glances but no comment was made. Only the Decepticon leader didn't hide his disregard for the seeker and allowed a mocking smile to creep onto his face plate.

''What about the first watch?'' asked the Prime when the rest were about to return to their previous occupations.

''We've taken care of it'' Prowl replied immediately. ''Magnus and I have prepared a schedule.''

''Thank you'' said Optimus simply.

With that being said, he emerged from the headquarters, entering the empty corridor – those who weren't needed had probably gone to their quarters to recharge... The Prime hoped they _had_ thier quarters, he thought that Magnus and Prowl had taken care of accommodations too...

''Need some assistance?'' asked a raspy voice and the red and blue mech couldn't hold back a small smile.

''I guess, I do'' he replied, turning to look at Megatron. The warlord returned the smile, adding a glint of his fangs to the expression.

''The last time you recharged in the medbay so I figured out that you'd like to see your quarters'' he said, slowly walking away towards the staircase.

Optimus followed him upstairs and then through the corridor, looking around with interest, trying to recognise the place. After a while he remembered - the officers' suites used to be located here.

Megatron stopped in front of one door and gestured for the Prime to enter. Optimus did as told and was pleased when the other mech followed him inside. The chamber wasn't spacious, it was rather small and spartan – there was no window, in the middle of the room stood a berth adequate for a mech his size, near the far wall stood a desk. The Autobot looked around, nodding – he hadn't expected anything 'too comfortable' and this chamber was enough of a apartment to him.

''What about the scan?'' asked Megatron suddenly when Optimus wanted to thank him for showing him the quarters. He looked at the warlord in confusion but soon the realisation came.

''Nothing. It's... it's not the slave coding'' he said in a low voice as if someone had been listening in. The former gladiator gave him a curt nod as a reply and didn't say anything.

Optimus didn't speak up either, he crossed his servos and kept looking around the chamber, not sure what to say now. There was one thing that bothered him but he didn't have enough courage to ask Megatron about it. He was hesitating awhile but couldn't stand the question crashing around in his processor any longer.

''Did Ratchet talk to you?''

What he got as a response was low chuckle. He looked up at the mech standing beside him, the question still in his optics.

''He did'' Megatron said.

''I'm asking because he talked to me...''

''Talked to you?''

''It was more of an argument...'' the Prime admitted and to his utter surprise the warlord chuckled once more. ''Is it funny?''

''In a way...'' replied the former gladiator, a distant look in his optics. They fell silent again.

A long while had passed and Megatron turned his gaze to Optimus again. The blue and red mech felt the warlord's optics on him but didn't dare to return the look. He wasn't afraid of the Decepticon leader, he wasn't sheepish either but something kept him from reciprocating this... He struggled to find a word for Megatron's actions and failed. The idea of them sharing a bond was still a bit abstract and confusing...

''I see you are tired'' the warlord said quietly and suddenly Optimus was desperate to object – no, he wasn't tired, Megatron could stay... He turned to face the Decepticon to ask him not to go and felt a clawed servo lifting his chin. The silver mech laid a soft kiss on the base of his crest and left.

The Prime couldn't move, he stood in the doorway, unsure what to do now. He slowly raised his servo and touched the place where Megatron's lip plates had been just a moment ago. A small smile made it's way onto his face plate.

He closed the door and walked to the berth. It felt like a dream – not one of the nightmares which had been torturing them all during the war, it was a real dream – unreal and nice. He lay down and fell in recharge immediately.

Then there was knocking.

Or at least it sounded like knocking.

But no one was knocking at the door.

It was inside him. And to his utter surprise, he wasn't terrified. He answered the knocking, let it in and felt that it was a welcome presence.

He couldn't online his optics, couldn't turn on his vocalizer or the audioreceptors... His frame was limp, irresponsive... And strangely enough, it didn't bother him – it felt fine. The significant things were happening _inside_.

It was dark around him and he wasn't afraid. He wasn't alone. This presence was with him.

'' _My greatest creation_ '' the presence adressed him and the words were like a caress. '' _The time has come for you to fulfill your role_ '' the rich voice continued and he recognised, sensed who must be speaking...

''Primus...?''

'' _Fear not, my creation. I didn't forsake you_ '' replied the presence. '' _You have to save your brothers. You have to free them. You have to serve them_ '' the voice announced and he listened. '' _This is your only and ultimate purpose. You are a servant and you shall never forget it._ ''

''I'm a servant...'' he repeated after the presence.

Suddenly the darkness perished and a burst of light blinded him. Then there were voices – cries of pain, whimpers, screams. And he saw it. He saw the enormous chamber, cages piling up, reaching the ceiling and mecha inside them – wounded, horrified and hopeless.

He felt the sudden urge to save them, to free them, to _serve_ them. He wanted to rush to their aid... but a wave of excruciating pain overwhelmed him and he sank to his knees. He shook his head and looked up to see dark figures closing in around him.

''I'm a servant!'' he exclaimed in rage and rose up, both his swords drawn. He recognised the ornaments on the ceiling, he knew this place, he was at an advantage.

''I'm... a... servant...''

''Wake up'' said a raspy voice and someone shook him gently. He onlined his optics slowly and blinked a few times to get used to the darkness of the room.

He recognised Megatron studying him and then their optics met but the warlord didn't smile, he frowned slightly.

''Are you awake?'' he asked in a tone which suggested that he was repeating the question. Optimus tried to nod but his neck felt so stiff...

''I-I am...'' he managed and his optics widened at the sound of his own voice – it was rough and weak as if he'd been shouting but he hadn't, had he?

''Finally...'' Megatron muttered, leaving the 'I was afraid I would have to call Ratchet' unspoken. ''A nightmare...?'' he asked and his frown deepened when Optimus shook his helm.

''I think, I know what we should do now. I know where we should go... I had a... revelation. From the Matrix...'' he said carefully, aware of Megatron's animosity towards the artifact.

''That explains alot...'' the mech muttered, sighing. ''Then... Where should we go?'' he asked, trying hard not to sound too sceptical.

''Primal Basilica. They have a prison there. Cybertronians. Hundreds of them. In cages. Miserable. Terrified...''

''Stop'' the silver mech interrupted him dryly and cupped his helm. ''You are having this hollow glow in your optics again...'' he said, watching him carefully and Optimus felt his frame going limp once more. ''No, not this again...'' Megatron growled and caught him firmly, steading him before he could fall. The Prime's gaze wandered – he was unable to focus on anything. He wanted to ask the former gladiator why he'd say 'again' and what had happened before but when he spoke up...

''I'm a servant....''

He felt Megatron tightening his grip with frustration, he saw him narrowing his optics and muttering something with anger. The silver mech was glaring at him and suddenly his expression softened and he heaved a sigh.

''We will go to Primal Basilica. I believe you'' he said in a low voice and Optimus knew that by this 'you' Megatron wasn't adressing him... When that was said, the Prime felt his frame tensing up and couldn't help the moan escaping his vocalizer. The former gladiator looked down at him, laying him gently on the berth.

''Are you awake?''

''I am'' replied the red and blue mech. ''Megatron... Could you... stay?''

The Decepticon just nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You for the comments on the last chapter. I hope You've enjoyed this one... so please, tell me what You think about it!


	10. Calm before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be longer but writing this bit took me so long... so I decided to cut it in half.
> 
> I have a warning for You, my Dear Readers!  
> Some time ago I realised that this stroy is divided into two parts: the light one where weird things happen and You don't know anything and the dark one where You get the answers but You wouldn't like them... As the name of this chapter suggests 'the dark part' starts with chapter 11. 'The dark part' is the reason for the rating. The really freaky/scary/horrible things are coming.  
> You've been warned.
> 
> (But don't worry, there is a happy ending! I love happy endings xD)

The time to make a hard call, eventually, comes to everyone. Sometimes it's easy to predict when the moment of making the tough decision would be, sometimes it's not. There are people who's gotten used to making the hard calls, for others, facing this situation is a whole new ball game. During her foregoing function Arcee had learnt to make tough decisions.

Therefore, she knew when to intervene. She was one of those mecha who had the luck to be in the right place at the right time. This meant that tailing Prowl was unnecessary.

She emerged from her quarters and almost instantly the Praxian appeared in the corridor, heading in her direction. Arcee fell in step with him and they went downstairs in silence. She didn't want to press the issue – it was a touchy subject and she _knew_ that Prowl would try to wriggle out of this discussion...

They were getting closer to the headquarters with every step and when they entered the corridor leading to the chamber in question, Arcee decided to act.

''Prowl, we need to talk'' she announced.

''We do?'' he asked, not slowing down or even turning to look at her.

''Yes, _you_ need to talk to someone'' the femme replied and, before the Praxian could object, added: ''Don't pretend that everything's fine 'cause I know it's not.''

Prowl's face plate remained expressionless but Arcee felt that he was glaring at her – she understood that. He was more than entitled to be mad at her for forcing him to talk about his – for the record, she knew how it sounded – feelings. The femme found the strength to stand this burning gaze because he was her friend and he needed her help. That was what she claimed... This belief was so deep-rooted that Prowl's words pierced her spark and the pain she felt seemed almost physical.

''Forgive me but I don't want to be another Tailgate.''

Arcee froze, watching the Praxian in shock. It took her a while to understand what she'd just heard. She struggled to catch his meaning and when she managed, anger boiled in her. She clenched her fists and gritted her denta, barely keeping herself from slapping him.

''Excuse me?'' she growled and the moment she heard his flat and emotionless voice, once more she had to fight the urge to hit him.

''Arcee. You claim that I have never gotten over the fall of Praxus and I'm stifling the sorrow. Let me ask you a question. Have you ever gotten over Tailgate's death? It seems you haven't. You met Cliffjumper and he became a replacement. You want to have someone close all the time. A friend. Unfortunately, and it's sincere when I say 'unfortunately', Cliffjumper died. Just like Tailgate. And just like after Tailgate's death you were looking for a replacement. A new friend. We shared a few assignements and, it seems, that made you think...''

''Prowl'' she interrupted him harshly, looking him straight in the optic. ''Have you ever wondered why _no one_ likes you?'' she hissed, her voice shaking. ''Lots of people respect you but no one likes you...''

He crossed his servos and looked down at her, with the same blank expression. The femme stared at him, thoughts rattling in her processor, spark overwhelmed by the sense of betrayal. She trusted him, she wanted to help him, to offer him comfort and understanding and in exchange he... That was unbelieveable....

''I presume, you don't want to talk anymore'' Prowl said, his voice flat but surprisignly quiet.

Arcee shook her helm to express her disbelief and turned on her hill to leave immediately. The Praxian watched her go, allowing his doorwings to drop – he was alone in the corridor, no one would see him... Prowl heaved a sigh. 'Cold and calculating' – that was what they used to call him. And they were right. But it didn't mean that his spark didn't ache when he hurt Arcee.

''That... was harsh'' spoke up the unmistakable high-pitched voice, making the Praxian tense up.

Prowl's doorwings twitched as he turned around to scold Starscream for snooping on and making comments but when he faced the witness of his short falling out with Arcee, he stopped short. The blank visor didn't betray any emotion and the Praxian wished he hadn't pulled any face – we wanted to play it cool as well.

''Bad day?'' asked Soundwave, this time speaking in his monotone instead of using some recording.

Prowl hesitated. He studied the Decepticon, taking his time, analysing the stance and body language... It seemed the slender mech wasn't sarcastic, nor had he any bad intention. The Praxian only frowned, his optics fixed on the expressionless visor. When another rather long while passed, he decided to give up. He heaved a sigh and nodded.

''And it's only just started'' he muttered, already aware that Soundwave would hear more than a average mech.

''You're said to be a pragmatist, not a pesimist'' replied the Decepticon, still using his monotone.

''It tends to be mistaken by many'' said the Praxian, coming up to the slender mech because, due to some trivial, _illogical_ reason, holding a conversation while standing on the opposite ends of the corridor seemed awkward and unpleasant. When the distance had been reduced, silence lingered and Prowl felt that Soundwave eyed him up and down. Neither of them spoke for another long while and suddenly the sound of two warbuilds coming downstairs filled the passage.

''And it's only just started.''

The Praxian did not flinch when he heard his own voice coming over from Soundwave's vocalizer. Instead he raised his gaze to look at the blank, scattered visor and said in a low voice: ''A bad day is all about perspective.''

The Decepticon gave him a curt nod as a reply and without a word, they both turned and went to the headquarters. It was better to meet their leaders in the chamber, instead of encountering them in the corridor. Mech as perceptive as Soundwave or Prowl could tell – from the heavy pedesteps – that something was brewing.

///

''A revelation?!'' spluttered Starscream with irritation.

Prowl had noticed the way Megatron stood at Optimus' side, giving sharp looks everyone who went to close. The Praxian could have told that something had been up for a while but he'd never expect such protectiveness. Therefore he hadn't said anything yet, leaving the initial formalities to Ultra Magnus (who seemed to _love_ handling such things), instead he'd been observing the two leaders. Then it had happened. One word had given the game away. It took him a while to digest this 'new piece of information'... Well, Starscream didn't need that time – he exclaimed immediately.

''Megatron, I know we have our... differences... but you have to agree with me this time!'' the seeker continued, his high-pitched voice echoing in the chamber, hurting audioreceptors of the assembled mecha. ''A revelation? There's no such thing! We can't just... just listen to every lunatic who says that they had a revelation! No offense, Prime.''

The mech in question didn't react – he seemed tired and unwell, he was apathetic. Optimus had never been a very talkative mech but the way he beahved this morning was quite unsetlling, nonetheless no one dared to ask about it since Megatron looked as if he was about to beat to death everyone who would stare at the Prime... Therefore it wasn't a surprise when the warlord glared at his second in command, flexing his clawed digits in a threatening way.

''Revelation from the Matrix'' Ultra Magnus spoke up, drawing their attention back to the conversation.

''So what?'' demanded Starscream.

''That means it's not a delusion.''

''It _may_ not be a delusion'' specified Prowl - this earned him a reproachful glare from Ultra Magnus. ''I'm not saying that we can't trust Optimus. We should be careful – we are all war-weary, we are all prone to make mistakes. And we don't have the luxury of making mistakes now'' the Praxian added slowly, laying emphasis on each word, his voice level and matter-of-fact.

There were some nods, exchanged glances but no one dared speak up and comment the statement. The whole chamber fell silent for a long while and it was Ultra Magnus who decided to continue the conversation since time was another luxury which they didn't have.

''Prime, sir, the revelation. What was it?'' he asked, trying to avoid the phrase 'what have you seen' – it would've sounded a bit too mystically and Magnus could easily imagine Prowl frowning and grimacing at the use of those words...

Optimus didn't answer straightaway – he flicked a glance at Megatron and then his gaze fell to the floor. He looked thoughtful as if he was struggling to recollect all the details. The warlord was still standing close to him, never leaving his side, the protectiveness obvious and ever-present. The Prime put both his servos on the holotable and raised his helm, watching the general staff carefully.

''There are hundreds – or even thousands – of captive Cybertronians in Primal Basilica – Autobots, Decepticons and neutrals. The invader, whoever they are, must have changed the place into their headquarters. One of the auditoriums was changed into some sort of prison – there were... six levels of cages if I recall correctly... The dais has been extanded, unfortunatelly I cannot tell what purpose it serves... Maybe it's some kind of watchtower. The point of this revelation is that we have to save those Cybertronians. I know we are low on numbers but we know our way around Primal Basilica'' he added the last sentence, looking Prowl staright in the optic. The Praxian wasn't surprised, moreover he was still sceptical about all this.

''They changed the structure of the auditorium. How do we know that the setting of the corridors is still the same? What about the guards? There must be guards in this 'prison'. You said we are low on numbers – are our united forces enough to defeat those guards?'' Prowl pointed out only a few things which had raised his doubts about the mission.

''I haven't seen them'' Optimus admitted a little reluctantly – he knew such facts made the revelation sound untrustworthy. ''I belive it means that our united forces _are_ enough to defeat them'' he added, crossing his servos over the chestplate. He shoved his own doubts away and took a confident stance so that no one dared to question his sanity in the first place.

''You believe...'' said Prowl, his voice full of scepticism, although he hated himself for this – for questioning his leader's experience and intuition. ''We need more information to come up with a proper strategy. We... believe...'' he hated himself even more for what he was about to say now but he knew someone had to say it... ''...that this revelation came from the Matrix... Optimus, you are connected with Primus by the Matrix...'' His visor dimmed when he felt all the optics fixed on him. ''Can't you ask Primus to be more specific?''

Silence followed.

Prowl looked at the two leaders – Megatron's faceplate was expressionless and the Praxian presumed that he'd just given voice to the warlord's own doubts, however the Prime...

''Prowl...'' Optimus adressed him, the rare flame of anger blazed in his narrowed optics. ''Primus gives us the information we need. The rest is irrelevant.''

The Praxian knew that he was treading on thin ice, nonetheless he had to continue pressing the issue – he was the Autobot voice of reason.

''With all due respect, you sound like a fanatic.''

''Prowl...!'' Ultra Magnus hissed, glaring at the Praxian.

''Magnus, put your limitless loyalty aside for a while and see into the facts'' replied Prowl, his voice still level.

''I doubt Primus will give us more information'' stated Optimus calmly, however the anger behind his cerulean optics didn't disappear.

''Can't you ask, for the sake of the troops?''

''Prowl, it doesn't work like this...'' tried Ultra Magnus, obviously running out of patience.

''Why? Have you tried, Magnus? Prime? Primus is supposed to listen to our prayers...''

''And now we are falling out because of religion and beliefs...'' sighed Starscream.

''We don't have time for any of this'' stated Megatron in a low voice and his words made the arguing mecha fall silent.

Optimus gave him a questioning look but the warlord didn't answer him in any way. After the eventful night the Decepticon leader was ready to help the Prime defend the trustworthiness of his revelation but in an argument like this – such heated discussions were waste of time and they were slowly running out of time... Megatron didn't wish to hurt Optimus or make him feel betrayed but on the other servo, they had to act and arguments weren't the way to achieve their goals...

''Shall we take the risk without hesitation?'' asked Prowl, his voice emotionless as ever.

''If this is the way you see it'' replied the warlord dryly.

''We can't wait forever'' agreed Ultra Magnus and Megatron nodded curtly. ''They will come for us eventually.''

''I'd expect something like this from a Wrecker but you, Magnus?'' muttered Prowl.

''This is insanity'' interuppted them Strascream. ''What if the troops object? Maybe they prefer to stay in the Citadel?'' he snapped, crossing his servos over the chestplate.

''We can ask them if you wish, Starscream'' said Optimus, doing his best to erase all signs of exhaustation from his voice. ''We can address them and they will vote – they will decide.''

For a short while all optics in the room were on the Prime. Then they all turned in their directions, mulling it over and calculating the most possible result of the poll. Megatron, however, didn't break the optic contact and – to Optimus' utter surprise – it made the Autobot leader feel uneasy. He turned his helm away, ignoring the crimson optics which were burning a hole in his plating now. The Prime hesitantly reached out through the bond and the cold he'd found there, knocked the wind out him. He furrowed, immediately withdrawing from the connection. Was Megatron mad at him? Why? The warlord was sceptical about the revelation but Optimus thought that he'd already given the voice to his concerns and doubts... The Prime tried to concentrate on the gentle pulsing in his chest – the Matrix helped him feel safer. The artifact clamped around his spark, keeping every distress away.

When Optimus turned again, ready to face Megatron, he found the Decepticon frowning. The warlord gave him a questioning look and from the corner of his optic the Prime saw a clawed servo moving in his direction so that no one else would notice. The red and blue mech glared at the other and stepped back, out of his reach... Surprise and confusion reflected in Megatron's optics but it didn't stay there for long, soon spite replaced it and this time it was the former gladiator who turned away. Optimus' frown only deepened. Something was off.

However, he didn't have the time for worrying about Megatron's odd behaviour since the decision had been made tacitly and the general staff had to leave the seclusion of the headquarters.

When they arrived at the main chamber where the troops were gathered, no one seemed to notice them at first. Then Ultra Magnus asked for attention – predictably, his request went off half-cocked but soon, with the help of Soundwave and a few strategically deployed speakers, he succeeded.

The moment the crowd fell silent, Optimus stepped forward, followed by Megatron but this time the warlord refused to stand near the Prime.

The Autobot leader looked at the gathered mecha, taking his time, making them wait so that they would pay attention to his short speech. His gaze was drifting from faceplate to faceplate, not meeting the red and blue optics, not focusing on the grimaces... He got the impression that he was still recharging – it felt like a dream. His vision became blurry. Was his helm spinning? Why did he feel this way?

Suddenly he lost the contact with reality completely – he had his audio receptors and optics turned off. The oblivion swallowed him. To his utter surprise, fear did not overtake him. He felt safe, although he had no control over his own frame. Why should he have any control over his frame?

The question appeared in his processor but he didn't pay it much attention. The answer appeared at it's own as well and he didn't mind.

There was no burden on him anymore.

He was a servant.

///

The moment Optimus started his speech, suspicion crept into Megatron's spark. He regreted that he stood behind the Prime and wasn't able to see his faceplate, especially his optics.

He'd heard Optimus giving a speech before, he knew about his charisma, persuasiveness and the seriousness of his words but this time something was wrong. The warlord tried to reach out through the bond but he failed, the other end of the connection was closed – cold and empty just like when they'd been in the headquarters.

Megatron looked at the troops who turned out to listen to the Prime carefully, some mecha seemed to be already convinced and ready to set off in no time. The words had universal appeal – Optimus voice echoed in the chamber, loud and solemn, gripping the sparks of his audience.

The warlord had heard the Prime speaking like this a few times. He remembered the speech Optimus had given right after being elected – he'd intended to avert the war but the conflict escalated, nonetheless. This memory made Megatron think.

He was sceptical about the revelation but maybe.... just maybe... just guessing... maybe it was Primus himself adressing them by the Prime...? The former gladiator disliked this concept but last night he'd seen enough to take this possibility into consideration.

''...and will you join us? Will you march to Primal Basilica and free your brothers?'' Optimus continued, gesturing to the crowd. The reaction was immediate – the troops stood up, cheering and chanting but Megatron couldn't make out any words of the shouts. However, he could fihure out that they agreed. They wanted to follow the Prime, even his Decepticons, even the greatest sceptics. Prowl had been right – they all were war-weary but he'd forgotten to notice what it really meant. It meant that they were all bored and eager for action.

The crowd kept chanting and applauding and it seems that the whole Citadel was trembling with their readiness. Megatron smiled a little – although he'd his doubts, he enjoyed watching row. There were no more factions – no Autobots, no Decepticons, only Cybertronians.

Starscream shook his helm, clearly irritated but he didn't say anything. He silently followed the rest of the general staff to the headquarters. They gathered around the holotable and it seemed that only the seeker decided to show his discontent – the others remained impassive.

''Prime, sir, the strategy?'' asked Ultra Magnus, while an old three-dimensional plan of Primal Basilica appeared before them.

''I presume, we already have the whole action plan'' said Optimus, looking at Prowl.

''I shall present to you the two most nonhazardous options, but first, I have a queation'' the Praxian announced and this earned him suspicious glances from each of the other officers. ''Megatron, why did you bring your flagship to Cybertron?''

No one objected and the query hung in the air. The warlord looked Prowl straight in the optic but the mech didn't even flinch.

''I assumed you've already figured it out'' the Decepticon stated in a low voice.

''Direct questions then?'' asked the Praxian and his lip plates twitched in a smirk. ''Did Shockwave ask you to come to Cybertron?''

''Maybe he did'' Megatron replied curtly.

''And where is he now?'' the Autobot pressed the issue and, surprisingly, no one interuppted him.

''You know that his lab was located not far from Primal Basilica, _Prowl_ '' the warlord said, narrowing his optics.

''You suggest he's among the captives?'' it was more of a statement than a question, threfore he didn't get any answer to that. ''Very well... The strategy, shall I?'' he changed the subject what only made Megatron more reluctant to cooperate with the Praxian. The Autobot was sawing confusion and the warlord wondered what his goal was. He remembered Shockwave's plotting and this situation looked too familiar...

///

There was still time to change the orders or at least choose the other strategy, nevertheless , Optimus had been already in the deserted main hall, ready for the departure. The columns had sustained damage and were just a poor reflection of their former glory but it didn't change the fact that they were high and towered over the Prime, making him look tiny. Seeing him like this reminded Megatron of Orion.

It reminded him of the neat armour, bright optics, his subtle way of being... His sparked ached but he'd decided that he wouldn't ask Optimus about closing his end of the bond – the Prime had a right to be on edge and Megatron wanted to respect it.

''You seem nervous'' he said, approaching the red and blue mech from behind.

''And you are very observant'' replied Optimus, managing a weak smirk. ''I needed some solitude...'' he added after a short pause.

''I thought so and this is why I came'' said Megatron and a small, triumphant smile appeared on his faceplate when a soft chuckle reached his audioreceptors.

''You'd make a fine Lord Protector'' muttered Optimus, looking up at the mech beside him.

''Lord Protector?'' repeated Megatron, raising an optical ridge.

''Lord High Protector. Prime's equal. He used to oversee Cybertronian armies'' the Autobot explained plainly, turning his gaze away from the warlord, towards the no longer existing stained glass.

''I thought... the previous Primes cancelled this title'' the former gladiator sneered.

''Nova Prime was the last one to have a co-ruler...''

''Galvatron.''

''Yes, Galvatron...'' Optimus said with a nod. ''As for the cancellation of the title, it was the Senate...''

''Sentinel didn't mind ruling at his own...''

''Would you stop interuppting me?'' asked the red and blue mech, looking at Megatron only to find the warlord's lipplates twisted in a smirk. ''You're doing it on purpose?''

'' It seems I'm no longer the observant one'' the Decepticon replied playfully but soon his expression became thoughtful. ''Did you have Lord Protector?'' he asked after a rather long pause.

Optimus was taken aback – he looked at the warlord, narrowing his optics. He didn't expect this question, although it seemed obvious that this whole conversation would lead to this.

''We wanted to re-establish the title but the war escalated and...'' he trailed off.

''Who?'' Megatron continued, his voice remarkably even.

''Ultra Magnus was supposed to... We knew each other quite well, he was a recognised warrior...'' Optimus answered mildly. He bowed his helm and heaved a sigh.

''Who would you choose to be the Lord Protector now, when the war is over?''

''Orion would choose you. I would call elections.''

With that being said, the Prime turned on his heel and left.


End file.
